


High School Rivendell

by I_Desire_No_Mans_Pity



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, LOTR, M/M, Multi, middle-earth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 08:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 74,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3603483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Desire_No_Mans_Pity/pseuds/I_Desire_No_Mans_Pity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story takes place in an alternate universe where most of the characters we know from the Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings are, in fact, teenagers attending High School Rivendell, a boarding school of learning founded by their parents. The story begins with certain characters as Éowyn, Faramir, Legolas, Gimli, Háma, etc... about to start their first year at HSR whilst other characters like Aragorn, Boromir and Arwen have been there for a year already and, therefore, are their seniors. We will stay with them during their four school years, participating in their classes, their exams, their relationships, their beliefs and feuds, their vacations and summer camps and even their cultural festivals and school outings. If you want a chance to learn more about Middle Earth cultures and history through your favorite characters, this is the fanfic for you. If you ship certain characters secretly and need to read fics about them, then this might be the fanfic for you as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Idea 
> 
> This idea developed from a comic series I was drawing about a year ago. Now, with positive feedback from a friend (her brilliant ideas as well) and some documentation on Middle-Earth, this fanfic is, at last, possible.
> 
> Title art by @Fl00ba5
> 
> Characters
> 
> a) Main Characters (That appear in the books and the media)
> 
> Aragorn  
> Arwen  
> Boromir  
> Éomer  
> Éowyn  
> Faramir  
> Gimli  
> Háma  
> Legolas  
> Tauriel
> 
> b) Fictional characters
> 
> Aendulas  
> Eydís  
> Saeltheria
> 
> c) Recurring Characters (That appear in the books and the media)
> 
> Angelica Baggins  
> Balin  
> Bilbo Baggins  
> Celeborn  
> Damrod  
> Denethor  
> Diamond  
> Dwalin  
> Elladan  
> Elrohir  
> Elrond  
> Fíli  
> Finduilas  
> Frodo  
> Galadriel  
> Gamling  
> Gandalf  
> Gloin  
> Glorfindel  
> Gríma  
> Haldir  
> Kíli  
> Lindir  
> Lothíriel  
> Melkor  
> Melpomaen  
> Merry  
> Ori  
> Pearl  
> Pippin  
> Prince Imrahil  
> Radagast  
> Sam  
> Saruman  
> Sauron  
> Sméagôl  
> Théoden  
> Thorin  
> Thranduil
> 
>  
> 
> TUMBLR
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/highschoolrivendell (NEW FEATURE. Previews will be posted there...)

**High School Rivendell**

 

**Index  **

1\. Brother and Sister

  2.  Beyond the Argonath

   3. Elves and Men and Dwarves  

4\. The Entrance Ceremony

5\. Go, Rivendell! 

6\. You All Breathe So Loud 

7\. The Try-Outs 

8\. Enderi

9\. The Breaking Fast Club

10\. Rides and Ties (TBR) 

                    

  **Chapter One**

** Brother and Sister**

 

_Last night I dreamt about Théodred again. We were riding together with my brother and my uncle, heading towards Rivendell. He was to start school with us, in my year, for we were the same age, and I realized, when I woke up, that I hadn’t felt so joyful in ages. But dreams are just dreams and the crude reality hit me like a sharp wind: I was certainly starting my first year at High School Rivendell the following week… But it wouldn’t be with Théodred._

 

It was barely September but the morning dew had already returned to Edoras. Éomer noticed as he stood outside the hall, staring across the lands of his forefathers. He had woken up early, excited yet nervous about the new school year. Of course, this was his second year and he pitied not himself more than his sister Éowyn, who would be starting as a freshman. But he still had that sinking feeling in his heart that made him wonder if he would be happy this year as well.

A soft breeze made the grass fields outside the walls dance in unison and he sighed, remembering that he had not stood there since the funeral. The death of their cousin Théodred had deeply moved Rohan two years ago, and somehow, the pain had remained so deep inside his heart that he couldn’t bring himself to visit the tomb. He knew that Éowyn did, she had a different way of dealing with grief. But then, she had always been headstrong and valiant, proper for the women of her country. If she did still feel the pain, she would not show it in front of her people. Éomer tried very hard to do the same but the very mention of his cousin and best friend’s name brought sorrow to his heart. He shared that with his uncle Théoden, Théodred’s father, who wished not to speak of his son.

Absorbed in deep thoughts, Éomer did not notice his friend Háma standing beside him and he jumped.

“Why would you scare me like that?” He muttered.

“I simply walked towards you.” Háma answered, putting on an innocent face. His expression then brightened. “Are you ready for school?”

Éomer laughed at Háma’s eagerness. He would be a freshman, just like Éowyn, and thought highly of the idea of spending the following years in Rivendell. It clashed a little with his personality, though… He was known for being obsessively proud of the Mark.

“I am not too excited, my dear Háma…” Éomer said, solemnly. “ I care a lot about my friends but I’m always apprehensive of leaving Edoras for a long time.”

“Lie to me not, Éomer.” Háma grinned broadly. “ For you are a cousin of kings and you face is crystal clear. What worries you most?”

Éomer sighed and looked swiftly towards the hall of Meduseld, where only the sound of a few servants lighting fires could be heard. They shuffled around the stone paved floor and there was a distinctive sweeping sound echoing through the building.

“Two reasons I am worried for, worst one I cannot chose.” He said, sadly. “I worry for my sister, who will be starting this year and knows nothing of the outside world. I worry also about my friends, for they are a tight group and sometimes I don’t feel as if I belong. I am not as noble as they are, in so many ways.”

Háma shook his head with disdain and gave Éomer a reproachful look.

“Tell me not, Éomer son of Éomund that you are worried about your social status. Are you not good enough a company for Aragorn son of Arathorn? For Boromir of Gondor? For Arwen Undómiel?” Háma sighed deeply. “I cannot say that I’m proud of the prince of Meduseld at this very moment.”

Éomer shrugged slightly but then turned towards Háma with a frown.

“Théodred deserved this place that was so abruptly given to me. I am not the rightful successor of the Mark.”

Háma looked him in the eyes.

“You will never be the rightful successor of Lôgrad, prince Éomer, if you do not believe in yourself. Theodred’s death was not at your hands and you could not have done anything to save him. You are by love and blood the only heir King Théoden will ever have.”

Éomer nodded, looking once more towards the fields strewn with symbelmynë. The sun had risen now and was casting pale shadows on the outer walls. He turned towards Háma.

“It’s getting late. I will wake up my sister if she hasn’t risen yet.” And with that he turned into the hall.

Háma laughed.

“I would not worry about Éowyn. She has read more books then everyone in Rohan together. She has had a bigger glimpse of the real world then us.”

Éomer smiled at his words while he walked towards his sister’s bedroom, at the far end of the house. As he suspected when he knocked softly at the wooden doors, there was no response at all. He opened it quietly and had to laugh. Éowyn was still sound asleep, curled in a ball with the sheets tangled around her. The sheepskin cover had slipped off somewhere in the night and now lay on the floor, strewn over her dress from the day before. There was absolutely no order in her room or in her lifestyle and Éomer strongly suspected she had been up late again, reading adventure novels from the times of old. Two or three books lay around her; one on the sheets, one next to her cushion and one slightly poking her face. He picked it up gently, as not to wake her, and peeked at the title: Beren and Luthien. It surprised him, for she was no romantic, and even if she seeked for love in the books she read, she preferred it to be entwined in battle and despair. Éomer could not understand that bloodlust that she had and that desire to move through everything with a fight. She was no ordinary maiden.

Éowyn muttered something in her sleep and then set up bold in bed. She looked at Éomer accusingly.

“You! Why did you wake me?”

Éomer took a step backwards, with a slight grin spreading across his face.

“I did not wake you, my lady.” He laughed. “I was just standing here.”

Háma appeared around the corner and leaned against the doorpost, looking slightly bemused.

“Already up, my lady? Ready for school?”

Éowyn’s eyes narrowed and her arm moved slowly, sleepy but very steadily towards her night table.

“No.” Éomer muttered, a look of terror in his eyes.

“What have we done.” Háma echoed him, slowly retreating.

Éowyn’s hands clasped around the object laying on the little table: it was a rugby ball and she was a very good shot indeed. Her elbow moved backwards as her shoulder lurched forwards and the ball flew across the room right into the hallway, narrowly missing her brother and Háma, but shattering the only vase that decorated the corridor in a thousand pieces.

“Oops.”

Éomer and Háma stared at her, incredulous.

“Oops? That’s what you have to say for yourself?”

Éowyn smiled lazily and sought for something to wear from the pile of clothes hung over her desktable.

“Don’t tell uncle.”

Éomer and Háma left, laughing and Éowyn pulled her night-tunic closer around her shoulders, sighing. It was a simple robe, used by the riders of Rohan when they went scouting. She had begged her uncle for one, as they were so warm and comfortable, although she couldn’t hide the real reason: there was nothing special about a simple nightgown, even though women from other parts would probably disagree. Éowyn was reminded with a heavy pang that school was starting today and that she would be launched wildly in a crowd of maidens her age. Why the thought of it scared her, she did not entirely know, but she knew part of it was a nagging insecurity, a voice inside her telling her that she was not like the other girls and that she would find it very hard indeed to make any friends at all.

Her brother had told her not to worry, though, as they belonged to the elite group of students whose parents or guardians had founded the school together with Lord Elrond of Rivendell and Lady Galadriel of Lóthlórien. There was always a place for them at that school, even if they might have to stick together.

Éowyn sighed once more. She had heard so many stories from her brother about High School Rivendell… how he had become friends with Aragorn and Boromir… how he had joined the rugby team… how beautiful the Lady Arwen was…  She had her own theories about Éomer’s adventures, which made everyone seem much grander than they really were… Of course elven ladies were the very image of beauty, but sometimes her brother would spend such long a time speaking about the Lady Arwen that Éowyn just wanted to bang her head against the nearest pillar in the hall. No man should speak that much.

She thought of Arwen while she dressed, wondering if she really was that beautiful. The pictures her brother had taken were oddly foggy and rare-angled, as if he had overcome great deeds while taking them. Éowyn slightly suspected Arwen hadn’t even been aware of those pictures, but she looked peaceful enough in them.

She heard her brother calling for her again and she hurried up, tying a last string on her leather tunic in order to fasten the front. She made the attempt to move with haste into the hall but then saw the wildness in her hair walking by the mirror and she fastened it with a piece of string so that the front would not strew around her face. She then hurried into the golden hall, worried that breakfast would not be there anymore if she delayed one more step.

Her uncle Théoden, Éomer, the guards and Háma were all gathered around the table, enjoying a firm Rohirric breakfast: big brown sausages, mashed potatoes full of spice, scrambled eggs and big fresh loaves of brown bread. Éowyn smiled at the sight of food and sat down between her uncle and brother, ready to fill her plate with all the goodies.

“Good morning.” She smiled, as she stuffed herself on mashed potatoes. Théoden, who had already heard about the vase from the servants, could not help but smile.

“Éowyn…” He said, giving her a look of paternal love. “Try to slow down today, will you not? No rapid running, no overeating. Just be the gentle maiden I know you can be and do not worry about school. It will be just fine…”

Éowyn looked up, feeling grateful. Admits her masquerade, her uncle always knew exactly when she was fretting. But then, she did share a lot of her mother’s features, and King Théoden could not help noticing how much she was starting to resemble the Lady Théodwyn.

Háma interrupted the King’s thoughts with an exciting stream about his desire to form a pro-Rohan group at school and everyone’s attention was inevitably adverted towards that. Even the guards joined in the discussion weather the Mark should unite with Northern Gondor and become part of the vast country, therefore sharing its many resources and products. Háma firmly stood by Rohan staying independent, growling fiercely at anyone who opposed him. Sometimes he could be a little overbearing with the subject, but the truth was, he constantly reminded the people around him that it did not feel right to simply accept being a part of Gondor.

Discussions like that flowed through the Hall of Meduseld every morning and every single one of them was used to it. The arguments, the tingle of knives, the bristle laughter and the merry pouring of ale was not the mightiest but yes the most comforting part of the Rohirric culture and it would not be erased so easily.

 

                       *                          *                         *

 

The tall and handsome young lad stood in front of his proud father, his dark auburn hair shining like a night’s helmet as he heaved up his chest. The Lord Denethor carefully pinned on it a silver brooch in the form of a rugby ball, his hands shaking with excitement.

“Many men play the noble game of rugby here in the citadel but none shine more than you, my son…” He said, crooning every word as if he were speaking in pure gold. “Be sure you show your true strength this year so you be made captain of the school’s team.”

The lad grinned at his father.

“I, Boromir of Gondor, swear that I will do my utmost to become team captain.” He sighed. “But I must tell you, father… Aragorn is ever so good and…”

“Aragorn!” Denethor spat out the name as if it were poison. The whole hall went silent and everyone looked up. The servants humbly resumed their cleaning, though and the guards looked once more towards the raven doors. Only the Steward’s youngest son held his gaze for a while, from the breakfast table, and then slowly turned back towards the book he had been reading, his hair falling around his face like and auburn curtain. He was already wearing his school uniform, the beautiful embroidered elvish shirt with the black tie. His brother, though, wore the rugby team jacket and did not seem to bother about the dress code. He caressed the pin his father had given him.

“He is a good friend of mine, father. He’s a good man.”

“I do not care about him.” Denethor muttered, sitting down at the breakfast table with a look of disgust. “The line of stewards has taken care of Gondor for many years and now this little boy appears out of nowhere, carried in by Mithrandir, claiming to be the rightful king…”

“He never claimed to be king, papa…” Boromir mumbled, humbly. “ I do not think he cares about regency at all.”

“Yet it is unforgivable…!” Denethor exclaimed. “…that a ranger from the north would ever be king over us or, as a matter of fact, captain over you. You are the rightful rugby captain of High School Rivendell! You will be the rightful ruler of Gondor…”

The youngest son closed his book shut with a sigh and  picked up his silver fork in order to shove some spicy tomatoes into his mouth. His plate had been too full from the beginning: the little cheese-filled buns, the scrambled eggs with toast crumps, the tiny beef squares with onions and now the remaining spicy cherry tomatoes. He felt almost sick, but he knew that did not have much to do with the food… It would be his first year at school and he had no idea what would happen.

Faramir had never paid much attention to his lessons. Mithrandir had tried to tutor him from the age of seven, alongside his brother, but both of them had always other matters in their head. Boromir mostly liked playing games with his citadel friends and Faramir wandered out on his own, slaying imaginary dragons and rescuing unfortunate prisoners from their grasp, hardly what his father would have expected. From a very early age, Denethor had always professed a single love, deep and powerful, for Boromir, and weather all his mischiefs were creative, those of Faramir were disobedient, leaving both brothers never really understanding what was right and what was wrong. Boromir had grown with no lack of self-confidence, standing always on top of the mountains and in the middle of crowds. But Faramir, so often compared and reprimanded, hid away in the shadows and discovered knowledge by his own, much later then Mithrandir’s classes. They would often catch him reading all the volumes of Gondor History, or the parchment scrolls that explained ancient sorcery, texts that only the most advanced of readers could understand.

“And you.” Faramir looked up suddenly as his father had turned towards him sharply. “ You had better be in the team as well. If I hear you did not get in, I will not send your allowance.”

Faramir sighed, sadly.

“I am no man of rugby, father. But I can assure you, I will excel at academics… I will get the highest average in the class… in the school… in order to make you proud.”

Denethor shook his head and turned back to Boromir.

“See to it that I can be proud at least of one son this year.”                      

And with those cold harsh words, he left through the black doors that led to the dormitories. Faramir stared after him, with a tired look on his face. But Boromir gave his brother a sympathetic look.

“Little bro.” He said, kindly. “Let us prepare for school. I will show you how everything works, even rugby.”

Faramir could not help but return the smile.

“Maybe rugby is the one thing I cannot be taught.”

His older brother had a tender look on his face; he had always been extremely protective over Faramir, seeing in him his mother’s gentleness and his father’s brain. He realized he could be fairly obnoxious sometimes, but he had always tried to include his little brother in everything that he did. It had been so different when they were young and careless and so completely not aware that Gondor would one day belong to them… he remembered how they rode their ponies through Ithilien, using sticks as swords and wooden planks as shields, pretending to battle against the most dreadful orcs imaginable and mounting fake camps in order to chase them down. Why had so much changed? Their childhood had been so lovely, but for some reason, that was gone now. Faramir cared not for Boromir’s friends and preferred reading in dark corners holding no more than a single overwaxed candle. His eyesight had grown to be pretty bad because of that and now he had to carry glasses around with him, if he wished to look afar. Boromir could not understand his little brother anymore, but he hoped that hiding in the dark thing was just a phase, and that he would get him back soon enough. School would be good for him, and High School Rivendell was just what he needed.

The doors of the hall opened and for a moment both brothers were dazzled by sunlight, for in the entrance stood no other than the White Rider Mithrandir, now whitest of all wizards. He carried a mighty posture and a big grin on his face. Faramir was beaming and stood up, walking happily towards the wizard and embracing him fondly.

“I am so glad that you are back, Mithrandir. What brings you here?” He asked, as Boromir hugged him as well.

“I am to be your escort.” The wizard laughed. “We will ride to Rivendell together.”

Boromir snorted.

“We don’t need an escort… I’m a second year already.”

Mithrandir’s face grew serious.

“You know only fourth years are allowed to ride alone. If you were to encounter students from West Orc High or the Nazgul Academy, would you be able to protect everyone? No? I did not think so…” Then he laughed again. “Those schools take rugby very serious. They would do anything to mame your players before the season even begins.” He beamed around the group. “GO RIVENDELL!”

Faramir sighed. He shared a great deal of interests with Mithrandir, but not rugby precisely… The wizard was a real fan and loved assisting all the school matches alongside Lady Galadriel, and Boromir had even told him that they were know to throw popcorn around in anguish if Rivendell was losing. Faramir felt like he had to watch at least one match, just to see them do that.

Shortly afterwards, the two brothers and Mithrandir found themselves in the citadel, beside the White Tree, tying their bags to the saddles of their steeds and fastening their travel cloaks around their necks. Denethor had not come to say goodbye, but they knew he was watching them through his Palantir, locked away in his dark room. Mithrandir shook his head, but he could not do much about that and at least he was to take the boys safely through Gondor. He looked around, and sighed.

“We shall be off in a few minutes, but let us wait for Aendulas first.”

Boromir heaved the biggest sigh and Faramir let out a small chuckle. Aendulas had been their childhood friend, the daughter of their father’s second in command. She had always been slightly rough but lately, in her teenage years, she had become a true noblewoman. It had also been difficult for Boromir to accept that, for she now preferred the company of maidens her age before engaging in swordfights with him, but he would never confess that to anyone. Only Faramir knew that he actually missed her, and didn’t hate her for her sharp tongue and twisted words, like he wanted him to believe.

She appeared a few moments later, on her chocolate coloured stallion, a silver cloak wrapped around her shoulders. Her dark brown hair, let lose at one part and braided at the other, contrasted with her pale skin. Her face was long and sharp, every feature strong and elegant and her heavy lidded eyelashes partially hid her dark brown eyes, making her look slightly superior. Her nose was just a little bit hooked and her lips were thin, yet stern. She had the typical face of the olden Gondor nobility and was considered quite beautiful and exotic whenever she travelled to another realm. She was staring at them now with certain cinism, but bowed graciously to Mithrandir.

                                                                                                             

“My father sends his regards…” She said, to acknowledge him. “And he thanks thee for your kind request of taking me on the journey lying yonder.”

Boromir burst out laughing and Faramir looked away, trying to contain a guffaw. Aendulas had a very archaeic way of speaking, done purposely to reinforce her culture and ancestry. A big part of the Gondor youth spoke that way now, and they were know as the White Tree Cult; they cherished Gondor’s history and wished to keep it pure. It had branched out in another group called the Loyalists, who supported the will of Denethor to expand the country and sign the free trading treaty with Rohan. Boromir and Faramir stayed out of those groups, but most of Boromir’s friends were in them and he couldn’t but help going along with most ideas. Faramir did not have the time to care enough and wasn’t sure what those groups were even about.

Aendulas stared at them, haughtily, as Mithrandir chuckled, shaking his head.

“Come now, Lady Aendulas, for we must be off before the sun is completely up. This will be a long journey and we need to reach Edoras before two days have passed.”

She nodded and turned her horse’s reigns around, casting an offended look at her childhood friends. Boromir was grinning but Faramir was staring towards the Eastern Doors, his attention caught in something very different. The banners were fluttering in the wind bearing the crest of their hall, and Boromir, following his gaze, smiled vaguely.

“Edoras…” He muttered. “A mighty hall with a mighty banner… yet none is as magnificent as ours, is it, little brother?”

Faramir turned away from the Doors and stared at Boromir.

“I do not know, for I have not yet visited Rohan…” He said, as solemnly as he could, knowing in his heart that this would provoke a loud discussion. And loud it was indeed as Boromir and Aendulas both started explaining at once why Gondor was all so mightier than Rohan, expressing their patriotic thoughts whilst echoing each other. Mithrandir started riding away, with a smile, and winked at Faramir, who was also smiling. The four of them rode quietly downhill, slowly descending the great city built by their forefathers. Before their eyes, the Gates opened and the trumpets announced their departing, their echo rumbling through the White Mountains as they horned. The three youngsters looked back once as they crossed the gates, admiring their great city for the last time in a long while, and then followed Mithrandir, who was heading for the White Mountains in a speedy canter, his horse Shadowfax leaving no more than a trail of dust behind.

 

*                          *                         *

 

After what would be the last Rohirric breakfast for a long time, Éomer, Éowyn and Háma were solemnly saddling their horses in the Golden Hall’s stables. They shared a special bond with those creatures, one unseen anywhere but in Rohan. For their kin had been born and raised on horseback since the beginning of times and their steeds shared one half of their heart and more than a quarter of their military power. They whinnied softly as their masters tied their bags to them, as if they knew they were going to go on a long journey with something near to a heavy heart. But maybe they were sensing also just a little bit of excitement, as Éowyn and Háma were asking Éomer all about the school.

“There is nothing more to tell! You will see when we get there!” Éomer sighed, as they bombarded him with questions. “Woa, Firefoot!” His horse had thrust his head in anguish at his master’s raised voice. “Really… I am actually nervous for starting my second year, stop asking me as if I were a fourth year or something…”

“Alright, brother, we will.” Éowyn smiled, as she tied her food-sack to the saddle. “But tell me, though… Are we leaving before noon today? It seems like we’ve been up forever.”

“Aye, we were supposed to. But Gandalf has been delayed, it seems.” Théoden came walking in, carrying the last provisions he needed for the journey. “That wizard is always late, I do not know why Lord Elrond wanted him to escort us… we could have easily asked Saruman…”

Éomer chuckled.

“Somehow I do not think it was Lord Elrond… The Lady Galadriel, on the other hand, was most likely to demand it…”

Théoden frowned as Éomer went into fits of laughter by himself, and Éowyn stared at Háma, with a comical look of bewilderment.

“And why…?” She asked.

“Shut up, Éomer… Do not hint such atrocities…” Théoden muttered, as Éomer wiped the tears out of his eyes. “The Lady Galadriel is wed to Lord Celeborn, your Sindarin teacher, and she does not share her matrimony with Gandalf… How many times do I have to tell you that.”

Just as Éowyn and Háma started asking eager questions, the horns sounded and everyone looked up. Éomer beamed with excitement.

“Gandalf! Gandalf and Boromir are here!” And with those words, he ran out of the stables and up the slope, followed closely by his friend and sister, and a slower, chuckling Théoden. They clambered up the steps of the Golden Hall and stared at the gates, where four riders were visible between the brown grass surrounding Edoras.

 

*                          *                         *

 

Faramir caught his breath when he first came in sight of Edoras. It looked so barren, yet so bright, like a little coin covered in dust whilst shining in the sunlight. The brown oak doors looked oddly welcoming after their long ride and his sore backside was demanding a more comfortable seat then his saddle. Faramir had never ridden so long in his life and had wished more than once for a cart when he had felt the blisters coming up. But he had remained silent, as neither Boromir nor Aendulas seemed to be complaining. He couldn’t help wondering what Aendulas was wearing under her long dark dress in order to keep comfortable on a saddle… it should be at least thicker than his breeches…

“Edoras, and the Golden Hall of Meduseld.” Mithrandir said gravely, trying to cause an impression, which indeed he did, until he smiled and cried: “Let us go in and sip their ale!”

Faramir and Aendulas looked rather shocked, but Boromir laughed.

“Let US go in and let US sip their ale?”

Mithrandir laughed.

“No. You are too young for ale… Shut up, Boromir.”

But at that point no one was paying attention at Mithrandir anymore, for the guards at the door were hoisting the banner of Rohan. The white horse was galloping through a field of dark green and Faramir couldn’t help but smile at that sight. His eyes caught attention to the Hall, far up the hill, where his brother’s friend was waiting for them, alongside two other students. As they crossed the gates and rode up the path, Faramir could only wonder why the maiden in the middle was not wearing a dress like Aendulas. Boromir had told him women from Rohan were a little different but he hadn’t imagined having the pure reincarnation of a female warrior in front of his eyes. As they drew closer, he saw a look of fire in her eyes that made her look quite powerful, and the wind lifting her hair only made it more intense. Faramir could not help but stare as he had never seen such a fierce maiden in his life. When the horses finally drew to a halt, he looked away, as King Théoden was descending the steps in order to greet them.

And greet them he did and Faramir was astonished to hear such warmth in his voice and manner of speaking. He smiled at them and welcomed them into his hall as if no feud had ever existed between their countries. Mithrandir had told them many times that King Théoden was not very fond of Gondor but when their need was dire, he would always offer his aid. Boromir never cared much for those history lessons but Faramir had grown to admire the King of Rohan and could see now that Mithrandir had not been wrong. He was a kind and brave man, why else would he raise his niece and nephew as is own and come to aid to people whose lord cared not for Rohan. For Lord Denethor had expressed his dislike for almost all other nations, especially Rohan and the elven dwellings, always leaving his sons wonder why he found them so unbearable. Mithrandir had told Faramir in confidence that he secretly feared what the other nations thought of him and his right of position, thinking that expressing hate made him look more powerful on his throne. Faramir could not help but agree as word had come from the west that Aragorn was the true heir of the Gondor throne. But Boromir laughed away that idea, as his high school friend was the kind of rascal that no one could imagine as a king, even though he had the wisdom of the elves from his mother’s part and the knowledge of men from his father. Aragorn brushed away any names given to him like “Elessar” and wanted only to be called “Strider”, his nickname. He had always been awfully curious, wandering off into the wild before he turned ten and returning days later, covered in mud and barely in one peace. Lord Elrond, his guardian, punished him then by making him sweep the elven dwellings of Rivendell, without any rest, until every bone of his body ached and longed for rest, hoping that he would never go on one of his adventures again. But Aragorn always returned to the forest and just a year ago he had escaped with a one of the Lorien boats alongside the river, while Elrond and his family were on vacation there. He had sailed as far as Mirkwood, and was there captured by Thranduil’s guard. The elven king kept him locked in a cell for days until word arrived from Lord Elrond that his ward had escaped. Thranduil then, with no special hurry, had ordered his guard to take Aragorn to the borders of Mirkwood where he was picked up by the elves of Lorien. He had been grounded for days after that incident.

Faramir smiled while remembering that story; he had never met Aragorn, but he was his brother’s best friend and Boromir rested not telling him all their high school stories. He could not speak of their mischiefs in front of their father but he sought up Faramir and they shared words on top of the white walls, laughing as they spoke. Boromir was laughing now as well, embracing Éomer with one arm and greeting him eagerly.

“Long time no see!” He exclaimed. “Ready for school? Ready for rugby? We are going to reach the top charts this year…”

Éomer laughed as well.

“I sure hope we do. I have been playing all summer in the Rohan league, with my friends and my kin…”

Boromir looked pleased to hear that and beamed at Eowyn and Háma, who were nodding at Éomer’s words.

“My kin?” He asked. He looked at Éowyn. “Do you play, my lady?”

Éowyn grinned broadly and pulled a dark green band from her pocket.

“I play in every internal match of the Rohan league, and I would play in matches all over Middle Earth if women were allowed to do so.”

Boromir laughed out loud, liking Éowyn at once. He ruffled her hair, adopting an older brother look on his face and said:

“It’s quite different in the real world, my lady. If you were allowed to play, you would not like it. Some teams are dangerous and will stop at nothing to beat you up bad… it is no place for a maiden.”

Éowyn narrowed her eyes a little and then smiled.

“I may yet show you my skills as a player.” She remarked. “For I am no weak maiden.”

“That you aren’t indeed.” Boromir smiled as Éomer, annoyed, gave Éowyn a small push.

Faramir, who had only listened to half of the conversation, felt he was now forming a swift first impression of Éowyn. If she was one of those patriotic rugby fanatic maidens, he would stay away from her for the rest of the journey and the upcoming four years. He glanced swiftly at Aendulas, who was staring at her in a somewhat indiscrete manner, not trying to hide it at all. Éowyn then stared back and none of the two dared to look away first. They held their gaze as Éomer introduced Háma to Boromir and Faramir looked at them, amused, not having yet unmounted his horse.

“And this is my little brother…” He heard Boromir say then, and suddenly everyone’s attention was focused on Faramir. He gulped and looked around, annoyed. Even Éowyn and Aendulas had stopped their staring contest to turn their heads towards him. Rather reluctantly, he descended his horse and bowed slightly with his head.

“Faramir.” Éomer said, kindly. “Boromir has spoken a lot about you.” Faramir smiled at Éomer and shot an even more annoyed look at his brother, who was grinning with an amused look on his face and also, Éomer noticed, pride.

“He will be starting Year One, just like you, Éowyn.” Boromir said. “Your brother has spoken a great deal about you too… Aragorn and I wanted to meet you for sometime now, but we spend most of our vacations in Ithilien or Dol Amroth and the distances are rather inconvenient, as you know.”

Éowyn smiled.

“Nevertheless, we were busy with the summer league, so that would not have been the best time for a visit.”

“Alright!” Gandalf interrupted. He knew Éowyn´s fire quite well. “And this is Lady Aendulas, daughter of Beregond, who will be in Year One as well. You can all get to know each other on the road. We are slightly behind schedule.”

Boromir, Faramir and Aendulas all shot him looks of disgust, as did Théoden and his kin. It was well known that Gandalf blamed everyone else for his tardiness.

“I simply cannot let the youngsters leave without a meal and some rest first.” Théoden remarked. “Éowyn, show Aendulas to your quarters and allow her to freshen up. Éomer, take Boromir and Faramir in. We will leave after noon.”

Gandalf sighed but everyone was secretly pleased to not have to get back on the saddle right away. Faramir noticed his sores felt worse now that he was walking and the breeches were brushing against his skin. He cursed internally has he followed the group into the Golden Hall of Meduseld, knowing he was walking like a goblin. He caught a bemused look from his brother and turned red, hoping he wouldn’t say anything.

If there ever were anything so different from the citadel, it was the Golden Hall of Meduseld. Boromir and Faramir stared at the space, bewildered. It was dark, yet completely homely, with roaring fires and tables full of food for the guards whose turn it was to eat. At home, Faramir noticed, the guards ate and slept in the dungeons, where the kitchens were, but this place was completely different. It looked built for comfort more than for grandness and he felt he liked the atmosphere, particularly the wooden horses carved in the pillars above and the warm colours of the hanging banners. Just as back home everything was black and white, here all was made of brown and golden, combining the metal with the wood. It was also a little stuffy, for the hall was kept warm at any hour to increase the guard’s comfort.

Éowyn beckoned Aendulas over and they went into the door at the left side of the Golden Throne whilst Faramir followed Éomer into the right door. Éomer showed the brothers to his room and gave them woollen towels.

“You may bathe if you wish. I am sure you feel like it after the long ride.”

Boromir smiled as Faramir gave a sigh of relief.

“We will be very happy to, Éomer… I think my little brother has a buttock problem.”

The two of them roared with laughter as Faramir, extremely annoyed, tried to strangle his brother with his woollen towel, sending both crashing to the ground. The laughter echoed through the halls, making more than one smile. School was starting.

 

                                                                                                                                             *                           *                              *

 

Aendulas gazed in awe around Éowyn’s quarters, for not one thing reminded her of her own room. Everything she owned was quite the opposite of what maidens her age would own, except maybe the dresses strewn over the floor. Éowyn, slightly embarrassed for the mess now that she was for the first time in the presence of another maiden her age, tried to pick a few things up without Aendulas noticing. But Aendulas was paying more attention to the wall hangings and the cases full of books.

“I see you also read Hyves and Tides…” She said, slowly. “Or did you not?”

Éowyn was a bit taken aback by the heavy Gondorian accent, but she shook it off and answered.

“I actually did read it. I like reading.”

Aendulas looked a little bit amused.

“Judging by the state of your quarters, I would not have imagined us having common reading interests. But I see now you not only have Hyves and Tides, but the entire collection of the Belfalas Mysteries… how did you manage to acquire the newest in such haste?”

Éowyn smiled smugly, suddenly liking Aendulas somewhat better.

“It seems they arrive in Rivendell before any place else. My brother brought it with him at the end of the last school year.”

Aendulas groaned, letting go of her high and might for a second.

“I could have asked Boromir!” She wailed. “Now I wasted an entire summer ordering my guards to search through the libraries of Dol Amroth…”

Eowyn burst out laughing.

“You will be able to acquire it in Rivendell for sure, but I will bring it with me just in case.” She remarked, feeling generous. “After the last book’s cliff hanger, I could not live with myself if I wouldn’t offer…”

Aendulas looked up, suddenly hopeful.

“Lend me the book and I will marry you in Minas Anor next winter.”

Éowyn took a step backwards, hoping this was a joke.

“There will be no need for that.” She muttered, as Aendulas burst out laughing. “I don’t even know what Minas Anor is.”

Aendulas looked suddenly shocked.

“It is the capital of Gondor.” She said, haughtily. “You may know it as Minas Tirith, but the White Tree Cult shall always maintain tradition.”

“Oh, Minas Tirith…” Éowyn muttered. “I know that.” Then, she held her tongue for she dared not ask what the White Tree Cult was.

There was no time for a large lunch but everyone in the Golden Hall helped themselves to some bread and meat cooked in butter. Faramir had stared at his place in horror alongside Aendulas, but Boromir, who knew somewhat more of the Rohirric cuisine, had gobbled everything up in a frenzy, vowing he had not tasted something as delicious as that since the multicultural fest last year.

As soon as everyone had finished their plates, Gandalf and Théoden walked towards the stables, followed by the youngsters, who were quite excited. Éomer and Boromir were laughing about certain teachers and Háma listened alongside Éowyn, hoping to pick up some survival techniques. Faramir and Aendulas followed quietly, wondering what would be in store for them.

Éomer led his horse Firefoot out first, closely followed by Háma, whilst Boromir hopped on his and Aendulas settled hers behind him. Faramir glanced at Éowyn, waiting for her to mount. She stared back. The others were already outside and it was starting to become late. She stared at Faramir, impatiently.

“My horse kicks if she’s not at the rear.” Éowyn said dryly.

Faramir did not even blink.

“So does mine.”

Éowyn narrowed her eyes.

“Mine really kicks.”

Faramir shrugged.

“Mine kicks harder.”

It was then when an impatient Gandalf entered the stables.

“What kind of problem do you have?” He asked.

“Both our horses kick.” Éowyn explained flatly.

Gandalf heaved a big sigh.

“Oh for pity’s sake! Ride alongside each other then!”

Disgruntled, both of them mounted their horses and came out of the stables together, without uttering a single word. Éowyn felt annoyed at Faramir’s don’t-carish manner and Faramir, on the other hand, disliked Éowyn’s stubbornness. They rode side-by-side silently, behind Boromir and Aendulas, who did not say much either. Eventually the company shifted, leaving Edoras behind and Éowyn rode next to Háma, who offered better company than Faramir. Gandalf, riding alongside Théoden at the front, shot a bemused look at the youngsters.

“This is going to be a fun year, I guarantee that.” He muttered to himself so that Théoden would not be able to hear. “So many possibilities.”

And with that, the company rode alongside the White Mountains towards Isengard, hoping to reach it sometime in the evening of the following day. From there they would follow the river towards Lórien and then head Northwest towards Rivendell, where they would finally have reached their destination. Gandalf sighed. It would be a very long journey indeed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope joy enjoyed this! I sure did while writing it!  
> This is where I will post a "preview" of the next chapter.
> 
> Chapter Two: The Argonath
> 
> Éomer, Éowyn, Boromir, Faramir, Aendulas and Gandalf continue their journey towards Isengard and later, Lórien. Meanwhile, another company has parted from Mirkwood: Lord Thranduil, his son Legolas, his childhood friend Tauriel and other elves, alone or brought by their kin who wish to attend HSR. Gimli and the other dwarves will be introduced as well in this chapter. Stay tuned!


	2. Beyond the Argonath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three different groups move on towards High School Rivendell... Gandalf is leading the youngsters from Rohan and Gondor, Thranduil has the whole group of Mirkwood following him and from the North, we have Thorin with the dwarves. 
> 
> Important meetings: Éowyn/Faramir, Legolas/Gimli, Kili/Tauriel (among others, yass Gandriel)
> 
> Will they reach Rivendell safely without killing each other?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a little bit of explaining before reading the chapter:
> 
> The High Pass is a path between the mountains that connects Erebor and Mirkwood with Rivendell. The dwarves used it a lot during the First Age for their travels.
> 
> New character (invented): Eydís, daughter of Dáin Ironfoot, sister of Thorin III. She's in the same year as Gimli.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Ps: Still thanking my friend, whose feedback and brainstorming are priceless <3 (Floba05)

** Chapter Two **

** Beyond the Argonath **

 

_What am I doing, I am not worthy, I am not like them. Wherever I go, whoever I’m with… I will always be inferior to them. I’m scared, I do not know how I will survive at this school… The school ranks will take away from me the only one of my kin I really know… yet he is not even of my kin. He is a Grey Elf and I am nothing more than a Silvan… A childhood friendship like ours may not survive in these four years… Why am I doing this? Why am I riding to my own doom? Why did Lord Thranduil pay for my tuition and why did I accept?_

 

The company of elves marched solemnly across the Old Road, some on horseback, some on foot, hardly resting, let alone eating. They had stopped for at least one mealtime and everyone had enjoyed their crunchy greens. But dark clouds were seen spreading overhead and the King of the Woodland Realm gave orders to move on.

Tauriel could not see Lord Thranduil from where she rode, just in front of the guard at the rear, but through the long string of elves, his orders were repeated and therefore, she knew she had not been missing anything interesting. In fact, the whole journey was really boring and she thanked Valar for not living further away. Her folk travelled light and swift, fearing nothing in their path.

There had been some incidents in the forest, though, involving the shadowy creatures that lurked within Mirkwood. Luckily, the guard served the purpose of eliminating them before Lord Thranduil even came to hear about it and most of their journey had been peaceful enough because of them.

Lost in her own thoughts, Tauriel did not notice that another horse was suddenly riding next to her. She looked up with a jolt when someone prodded her neck with a bow.

“Legolas Greenleaf, what are you doing here? And why did you just poke me?” Tauriel cried angrily at the grinning elf on her right. His golden hair blew freely in the wind and some of the falling autumn leaves were actually getting caught in it, as if he were a spider luring flies into his web. Tauriel could not help but laugh and gently removed the leaves from her friend’s hair. He laughed as well, balancing on his saddle whilst adjusting a stirrup.

“Are you not happy to see me?” He asked, smugly.

“No, I am not. I was very happy taking a break from you.” Tauriel muttered.

“You were bored to death!” Legolas exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “By Valar, so was I!”

Tauriel scowled, although what Legolas said was entirely true. It was boring without him, certainly in that long and tedious journey… But she would never confess how much she cherished his company.

“I was not bored.” She said, pointedly.

Legolas laughed again, staring ahead. Then, he looked at her, a grim expression on his face.

“I could not bear riding next to father for another minute…” He growled, lowering his voice a little. “He has recited half the history of Middle-Earth so that I know who exactly is my enemy and who is not… In other words, everyone is my enemy.”

Tauriel burst out laughing.

“If it were up to Thranduil, he would build a big stone wall around his forest and allow no one in and no one out…”

“Then I would stay outside the walls while they are being built.” Legolas muttered, as Tauriel guffawed, sending a flock of birds flying from the tree where they were perched, right into the sky. “Shush! I do not want everyone knowing where I am! The rear is the perfect hiding place.” Legolas covered his head with his hood. “I am just a Silvan Elf, minding my own business…”

Tauriel, shaking with laughter, glanced ahead, but she could only just make out the siluete of the big antlers that belonged to Thranduil’s deer. On either side of the long column of elves, the dark forest grew over them, and seemed truly menacing. A cold wind made the leaves on the trees rustle and provoked many uneasy looks amongst the company. But none of them left their position, they were too well trained for that, both the guards and the others. Only Legolas dared to defy Lord Thranduil’s orders, but then again, he was his son.

They rode quietly for a while, side by side, or as mortals would put it: “in perfect harmony”. And in perfect harmony indeed it was for their friendship most of the time, needed words not. In military training, they had but to glance at one and other to know what was in each other’s heads, making them the most powerful team around. Unlike the other elven reigns, Mirkwood had no special team but they prided themselves on their parkour ability. Legolas and Tauriel were by far the best athletes in the old Greenwood, but sadly that didn’t make Lord Thranduil love Tauriel more.

The elven king and his son’s best friend had a complicated relationship that nobody really understood. Tauriel was all that military perfection could summarize: quick, agile, strong, clever, strategic… She was one of the brightest young elves being trained in the army of the Woodland Realm, alongside Legolas. There was no doubt possible that she would one day be made head of the Mirkwood Elven Guard. Yet none of her achievements seemed to matter to Thranduil, for him her strive for perfection was just an obligation all Mirkwood elves had to have. To him, Tauriel was no more than a mere Silvan elf, of lower birth and lower status and it was known that he disapproved of his son’s friendship with her. But he could not do much about that when they were training together in the military academy; they were both best in their year and therefore, always paired up ensemble.

Maybe Thranduil realized, deep down in his string of cold and somewhat confused feelings, that Tauriel’s performance was fairly superior to other elves in her year and that he had allowed her to assist High School Rivendell with his son so that she could develop her abilities and better her knowledge, all under his expense of course. Would there really be another reason? For what it seemed, he had tried to keep her away from Legolas his entire life and now he was sending them to school together. The population of Mirkwood sure found that strange, but they had no doubt whatsoever that Thranduil had something planned, for good or for evil, that they did not know.

It was Tauriel who worried most about it, for she had been raised in Mirkwood as Thranduil’s ward, yet she had never felt welcome in his presence. He had always made her feel inferior and unwanted, reminding her every day who she was and where she belonged, as if her entire upbringing circled around staying away from his son. Legolas feared his father not and always seeked her up when she tried to avoid him, but Tauriel had grown to feel a great respect towards Thranduil and never showed any evidence of her friendship with Legolas when they were around him. Therefore, riding side by side, she felt slightly uncomfortable, as if she expected the King of the Woodland Realm to appear behind them any minute, on his deer, wild berries in his hair and his eyes wide with anger. She shivered at that thought.

It was around noon when they finally left the woods and entered the Ningloron fields, making way towards the High Pass. It was a dreary place and it had become dangerous over the years but Thranduil had stated that nobody would dare to attack such a vast army of elves and that he would not ride all the way down to Lothlórien just to go up the other way on the other side. Legolas could not help but agree with him for once, as the journey seemed tedious enough as it was…

“What are they saying?” Tauriel asked, quietly, as Legolas daydreamed away.

He jerked towards her, slightly confused.

“What?”

Word came from Lord Thranduil at the front and the queue of elves passed it on. Their Lord informed them that they would not rest until they reached the valley in front of the pass, where they would be safe for the night. Legolas and Tauriel shared a look and wondered what that was all about. The old forest path was not very safe but outside Mirkwood, Middle Earth seemed calm enough, at least as long as they knew. But Thranduil mistrusted the valleys around his kingdom and would not risk his soldier’s lives for the sole motive of not taking necessary precautions, and the two youngsters knew that more than anyone. Legolas lowered his hood and muttered a quiet “speak to you later” to Tauriel, moving forth towards the beginning  of the line, where his father rode. The guards riding at either side of him made way so that he could pass.

Thranduil did not even turn his head but calmly said:

“Where have you been if I may but ask?”

Legolas sighed, deciding to ignore that question, as his father clearly already knew the answer. He did not expect Legolas to say anything in return about that matter, he just wanted to let him know that he was very aware of what was going on down the lower ranks.

“Father…” Legolas muttered. “ Are there any perils laying yonder? I thought this journey would be safe for us.”

Thranduil shot him a look of calm control.

“Orcs and goblins from dark places may be crawling around us as we speak.” He stated. “I cannot guarantee anyone’s safety beyond our forest if we do not reach the High Pass before dark.”

“Why would these foul creatures be lurking around here?” Legolas asked, frowning slightly. “I though all their academies were in Mordor.”

“So they are.” Thranduil answered calmly. “But the Chairman Sauron has sent word to those tribes living yonder, inviting more of their kin to the schools of Morgoth. Word came from Rivendell about this situation and, as you see, I had to take measures.” He made a light head movement towards the ranks behind them. “Only like this can our kin travel safely through Loeg Ningloron.”

Legolas did not even have to nod to show his father he was right. Thranduil had the faintest hint of a smile on his face, and he urged his elk to move forwards, settling himself once more between the two guards. Legolas was left behind, pensive, wondering if they would really encounter orcs and goblins. He started moving back through the ranks seeking out Tauriel, who looked at him questiongly. He sighed.

“We shall not rest until nightfall.”

 

 

                    *                         *                        *

 

Háma scratched his back with in irritated look on his face as they sat around the fire, sharing a small lunch. He glanced over at Boromir and Éomer, laughing together and wondered why his best friend had ever been afraid of going back to school that year. He seemed to be getting along on the best of terms with the steward’s son, as if they had been friends for a long time. Háma felt a sudden sadness creep over him and the insecurity that Éomer had shown a few days ago now reappeared, focusing mainly on him. Alongside Théoden’s kin, he was the only Rohirric lad in the entire school and he did not feel like making friends with anyone from Gondor. That would certainly never happen.

He glanced over at the other two Gondorians that Gandalf had brought with him… The nerve that wizard had! Did the elves not travel only within their own race? Did not the dwarves? So why could not the men? Were they all the same under the eyes of Mithrandir, as they called him? Could he not see the huge difference between the infamous Gondor and his beloved Lôgrad?

Aendulas moved towards him and he looked up, suddenly aware that he had been staring a little too much. She was truly graceful, very different from Éowyn in looks and quite tall as well. His face was cast into shadow as she blocked the Sun away, and he wondered why she was standing in front of him. But that question was soon answered when she elegantly picked up the small leatherskin full of fresh spring water laying beside him and moved away again. Háma then was reminded of the elves and their way of walking around others as if they owned them. Aendulas really did seem to act like that, and he had truly believed she would speak to him. But she had only approached him to have a drink of water, as if he – and everyone else – were invisible to her eyes.

Aendulas sat back down next to the other Gondorian lad, the youngest of the two brothers. Faramir… Háma studied him as well, as he saw him not caring about anyone either, while reading a book. He shuddered, wondering why anyone would prefer a book to a good song. Éowyn was like that too sometimes, dropping down in a sunny corner of the Golden Hall and devouring page after page, but at least she had other activities that made her likeable. Háma smiled at the irony of having compared Faramir to Éowyn and glanced over at his best friend’s sister. She was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is Éowyn?” He asked out loud. Everyone looked up and then around, with a confused look on their faces. But then Éowyn re-appeared, carrying a bucket of water that she had filled at the stream nearby and everyone went back to their lunch as nothing wrong had happened. Éowyn walked towards her mare Windfola and stroked her neck, gently. She whinnied softly in return and accepted the water with gratitude, as the bucket from before was already empty. Faramir’s chestnut mare Belan nudged Éowyn’s arm with her nose and she could not help but smile. Gently, she pulled the bucket away from Windfola, who had clearly drunk her fill as she was now playing in it, and brought it close to Belan so that the small mare could have some as well. Faramir looked up and was moved by Éowyn’s gest, although it was no surprise that the young lady from Rohan was good with horses. But what really did surprise him was that Belan and Windfola seemed to be getting along pretty well, when they were both slightly temperamental mares who preferred the company of stallions and geldings. He shrugged and concentrated once more on his book. If the maiden of Rohan wanted to give Belan water, she was free to do so.

Aendulas stared over at Boromir, who was in deep conversation with Éomer and she sighed, feeling a little bored. Faramir had always been a pleasant and quiet company for when she felt overwhelmed by Boromir’s character, but she noticed that when she spent too long away from him, she somehow longed for him. Yet after being just a moment in his presence, she sought refuge somewhere else, wondering why she had ever wanted to be near him. Boromir had always been her friend, just as Faramir, but sometimes she felt as if she wanted to push him off the citadel.

Even so, Boromir seemed not to notice Aendulas’ irritation with him and spoke animatedly with Éomer.

“I wonder where Aragorn is right now.” He was saying. “He usually spends his summers in Lórien, with Elrond and Arwen. But they should be back by now…”

Éomer laughed.

“I still cannot get over the idea that he’s so close to Principal Elrond…”

“Co-principal, remember?” Boromir grinned. “And math teacher. It must be truly horrible for him.”

“Yes…” Éomer was shaking with laughter now. “Spend the whole summer with your co-principal and math teacher and then visit your other co-principal in Lórien. Hello.”

Boromir laughed as well.

“At least the lady Galadriel is no teacher… Her presence as principal frightens me enough, I am truly glad I don’t have to take exams under her watch…” And Éomer nodded in agreement. “Arwen must have it even harder… with Elrond as her father and Galadriel as her grandmother…”

Éomer smiled, dazzled for a moment, remembering how beautiful she was. Boromir caught the look and turned away with only half a grin. He truly hoped Éomer would not get too attached… Aragorn and Arwen had known each other forever and he would not be surprised if they would turn out to love each other one of those days. His look drifted away to his friend’s sister, who was still fussing over the horses and he smiled, wondering if he had suddenly caught her showing a more gentle side. She was wearing breeches again, although not the same as the ones she had pulled on a few days ago, when they arrived at Edoras. She was so young and so pale, like a single flower in a vast field of grass and yet her look was so proud and strong, true royalty shining in her eyes. Boromir had never met their cousin Théodred, as he had perished before they had even started their first year, but he could see that Éomer and Éowyn were every bit as noble as what he had been. There was no fear for the prosperity of Rohan if those two would one day be at the lead.

Boromir and Éomer never spoke about the Denethor’s treaty, avoiding the subject by all means. Neither of the two was nearly as radical as Háma or Aendulas, so they preferred to speak about other things and not put their friendship in jeopardy. Even so, Boromir felt more comfortable around Aragorn, who had dwelled in Rivendell for a long time now, because he did not have to count with the strain of avoidance in the matter. Therefore, in school, whenever a team was picked or a partner for a class was needed, he chose Aragorn over Éomer, even if they usually hung out all together. That was the very reason why Éomer had feared his return to school and what was in store for him that year.

Éomer felt more at ease now, but he knew that they would soon arrive in Rivendell and that this sudden intimate friendship with Boromir would rapidly cease and become once more uncomfortable.

Aendulas approached the horses slowly and stood next to Éowyn, the dark and golden hair blowing in the wind. They smiled at each other in acknowledgement and the Gondorian maiden petted Windfola gently.

“She is truly beautiful.” Aendulas muttered. “I had read, of course, about the Rohirric steeds, but gazing at them now just makes me wonder if your songs and our books really honour them enough.”

Éowyn was surprised at her praise, for those days Aendulas had only ridden next to them with a look of haughtiness on her face. She was every bit as radical as Háma, who even avoided speaking to the Gondorians, but somehow she seemed to like her.

“Yes…” Éowyn answered. “That is so indeed.” She felt foolish speaking so archaically, but that just happened around Aendulas. “But I have heard that the Meras are splendid as well.”

“That they are.” Aendulas smiled. “I did not know you spoke Sindarin.”

“I do not.” Éowyn laughed. “Just a few words…” She frowned. “We will have to learn that, though… It’s one of our subjects.” Without knowing it, she had slipped back into her normal form of speech. “I don’t know how I’m going to do that, it has nothing to do with Westron or Rohirric…”

Aendulas laughed, for she had trouble following Éowyn’s rapid word stream. Even if they did speak in the common tongue, she had a heavy Rohirric accent and certain uses of language Aendulas did not fully understand. But she liked the small and fiery maiden; she was very different to her usual calm and quiet friends.

“Our language actually evolved out of a form of Sindarin.” Aendulas smiled. “And Westron, of course. But I expect we shall also have trouble, as the evolution is quite different. But come! Why are we speaking about school when we are not there yet? Let us take a walk together and stretch our legs before we mount again.”

And so the two maidens, so very different yet so very fitting strolled past the campfire and walked alongside the mountain range, sometimes speaking, sometimes laughing and Gandalf could not help but smile.

“Alas.” He said, looking at Théoden. “There are so many folks that care not about each other. But Éowyn and Aendulas… If that becomes a friendship, I shall put hope in the race of men again.”

Théoden grimaced slightly.

“You may…” He muttered. “But I shall consider it a bigger miracle if Denethor stops his foolish treaty and respects Rohan as a kingdom of its own. It was given to us many years ago and it is rightfully ours. When that happens, I shall look upon those friendships with different eyes because then I will be able to understand them.”

Gandalf sighed.

“If everyone would think like that, Théoden son of Thengel, we shall never see peace between the folks of Middle Earth.”

Théoden took a sip of wine from his waterskin and shrugged, frowning slightly at Boromir and Éomer laughing together.

“They are young and somewhat wiser than us.” Gandalf smiled. “They remind me of High School Rivendell, a few generations ago… When certain problems were all solved by friendship and rugby.” Théoden turned red. “Do you not remember teaming up with Denethor to win the cup? Did you already forget the alliances between the elves and the dwarves of your generation? That was truly a wonderful time.”

Théoden shook his head.

“I am not the only one, Gandalf the Gray, who broke off their friendship after school. What about Thorin and Thranduil? Are they not guilty too?”

“Oh, stop blaming others!” Gandalf said, annoyed. “Let us get the maidens and ride on. I have no time to listen to those atrocities.”

 

                                   *                 *                  *

 

Dusk was approaching with a soft change in the air, making the company of elves look at each other in unease. They had ridden as swiftly as their steeds had permitted them, but the High Pass was nowhere to be seen yet. Only Thranduil seemed tranquile, caring not that even his personal guard were growing anguish. He rode on quietly as if he knew exactly when they were going to reach the High Pass and apart from his calmness, not a hint of a expression was seen on his face.

Legolas was riding next to Tauriel again, although he had moved around during the day and had even spoken with a few of the elven maidens further up the front, or as Tauriel called them, the “almost good enough brides for Thranduil’s son”. But they seemed very much more impressed with him than the other way around, which made it quite a hilarious sight to watch for his best friend.

“I think father has no idea what he is doing.” Legolas told Tauriel, as they rode. “We will never reach the High Pass before nightfall and the wild creatures will feast on us.”

“Shut up!” Tauriel laughed, slipping into her Woodland accent. “You are such a drama queen sometimes.”

Legolas looked slightly offended and then laughed as well.

“I take after my father.” He craned his neck to see further up front but it was quite impossible, even for his elf eyes. He then graciously propped himself up, standing on the saddle, his knees now at the same height as Tauriel’s head.

“You mad fool!” Tauriel cried, grabbing his legs and making him slip back into his saddle. “Stop prancing and parading, this is not the time.”

Legolas sighed.

“I think I see something, though…” He muttered. “Like a mountain-range.”

Tauriel’s elf-eyes sought into the dark and she blinked, for what Legolas had said was right. There was indeed a dark shape in front of them that could very well be the peaks surrounding the High Pass. They knew they were right when word came from Thranduil up front that they had reached their destination for that day and that they would now make for the valley under the Pass. The elven company rode on and in less then half an hour, found themselves moving around the rocks of the valley. But there they were not alone.

A cold look of fury crossed Thranduil’s face seeing that their valley had already been occupied by another group of travellers, who had entered from the North. All the calmness he had expressed along the journey seemed now to be gone and with that, he looked oddly flustered. Legolas and Tauriel, who had moved up front could clearly see that his hands were trembling. They looked towards the source of his despair.

It was a dwarf company, almost as big as theirs, and looking very fierce indeed. Legolas’ eyes fell immediately upon the one at the front, who seemed to be staring at Thranduil with the same intense hatred. He had long dark hair and a braided beard, with woven-in jewels and his whole composure was rather lordly, although it did not look as if his father was very impressed.

“What…” Thranduil spat out the words. “… are you doing in my valley, Thorin son of Thrain?”

The dwarf lord moved the goat he was riding on forward.

“Your valley?” His voice sounded like a warm fire crackling in the echo of a small cave, and it was filled with hatred. “Since when is this your valley, Thranduil Oropherion?”

Both companies looked amazed at that stare-off the two lords were having, as if they wanted to slay each other using merely their eyes.

“These are elven valleys, they belong to the Woodland Realm, therefore they belong to me.” Thranduil spat out, looking like a child deprived of his wishes.

“Oh yes…” Thorin answered, his voice carried by sarcasm. “Everything belongs to you, the whole world belongs to you! You want everything and you will throw your little tantrums until you get it!”

“I do not have to want that what is already mine.” Thranduil said, quietly, and Thorin looked suddenly pale, although he regained his composure immediately.

“The High Pass has been used by the dwarves since the First Age.” He said, quietly. “Deprive us from resting in this valley and we shall deprive you from crossing it.”

This awakened angered shouts from both groups until an elderly dwarf with long white hair and the same colour beard pulled his goat up till the front, begging for silence.

“Do you not see how foolish this is?” He muttered. “Lord Thranduil, you are one of the greatest contributors to High School Rivendell and so is Thorin. Your gold put together makes this educational institution possible, so why fight when we are both going to the same place?” The dwarf sighed. “We would do better travelling together.”

Thorin frowned deeply and Thranduil looked as if he had swallowed something very poisonous and they had just told him about it.

“Balin…” The dwarf-lord muttered. “We shall not travel together. But you!” He looked at Thranduil, who was still looking nauseous. “We could share this valley tonight for the safety of our people, if we camp at either side of the rocks in the middle. We shall not speak, fight nor look at each other and then in the morning we shall proceed our journey on different times.”

Thranduil seemed to be at conflict within himself but in the end, he sighed.

“We shall do that.” He muttered, and rode his elk towards the left side of the rocks, while Thorin led the dwarfs towards the right side. Legolas and Tauriel could only catch a glimpse of a few young dwarf lads sniggering and pointing at them.

“Hey, which of you two is the female?” A black-haired lad called out to them, as they were moving.

Legolas looked taken aback but Tauriel quickly responded:

“Which of you is the male? I certainly cannot tell because of the facial hair…”

“Neither can we!” Came the young lad’s cheeky answer.

Legolas pulled up his chin and rode towards the group of young dwarves.

“I know you are supposed to be youngsters but is that height really normal?”

The dwarves shouted a few atrocities at him, indignant.

“The only reason why you are so tall is because you spend your lives looking above others thinking you are so great!” Came another cry from the group of dwarves.

“At least we are not condemned looking at everyone’s crotches for the rest of our lives!” Legolas blurted out, causing the elvish spectators behind him to guffaw. Tauriel was shaking with laughter on her saddle.

“Oh yes?” A red-haired dwarf responded. “At least we have crotches.”

The dwarves around him started hooting and banging their fists on their tights, howling with laughter.

Legolas was a little taken aback by the boldness of that young dwarf lad and turned his horse away.

“Come, Tauriel.” He muttered. “Let us leave this scum and settle down for the night.”

They found a place at the left side of the rocks which was not very crowded and they lay down their mantles before sitting upon the. They were richly woven blankets that came from Lothlórien; Lord Celeborn had given them as a present to Thranduil a couple of years ago. Thranduil did not care much about them so Legolas had taken them and had given one to Tauriel. They proved their value now for the ground was quite hard there.

“I hate dwarves!” Legolas exclaimed, indignant. “Why do they have to assist at High School Rivendell?”

Tauriel smiled vaguely.

“Your father has transmitted his hatred well.” She said, softly. “I think them not so awful… They are rather funny, riding on their little goats with those big beards and wobbly…”

“TAURIEL!”

She looked up and turned red.

“I’m sorry…” She muttered. “Yes, they surely are terrible. But stop worrying about them and get some rest… We have a long journey ahead.”

Legolas nodded and stared angrily at the other side of the rocks, where singing and laughter could be heard. He craned his neck so he could take a peak and saw the same group of youngsters as before chanting around the fire. He nudged Tauriel and they both walked slowly towards the group, making sure they stayed hidden behind the rocks.

A young dwarf with dark hair was singing with quite a clear voice and Tauriel felt that the melody was quite catchy and also powerful.

 

_Under the Mountain dark and tall_

_The King has come unto his hall_

_His foe is dead, the Worm of Dread,_

_And ever so his foes shall fall_

_The sword is sharp, the spear is long,_

_The arrow swift, the Gate is strong;_

_The heart is bold that looks on gold;_

_The dwarves no more shall suffer wrong._

 

Legolas looked at Tauriel and was surprised at her strong gaze. Her eyes were sparkling, her hands were trembling and she seemed to have trouble swallowing. He wondered if she was indignant or angered by those lyrics, but he could not once imagine that she found the song so beautiful that it brought tears into her eyes. Tauriel tried to conceal that, of course, and turned away, but when she did, she accidentally stood on a dry twig and it snapped in half, causing a deafening noise to echo around the rocks. The music stopped and all the dwarves stood up, looking in the direction of the noise and thus, immediately spotted the two elves, who had turned red in the face.

“By Durin!” One of them exclaimed, stepping forward. “What do you think you’re doing, spying on us?”

Legolas gave Tauriel a little push, as he had no excuse.

“We…” Tauriel began. “We were not spying… we were… bathroom.”

Legolas widened his eyes and turned even redder.

“You could not think of anything better to say?” He exclaimed, as the dwarves roared with laughter.

“I’m sorry! I could barely say we were spying on them!” Tauriel hissed, a little bit too loud. Legolas closed his eyes in resignation as the dwarves tittered. Tauriel looked extremely apologetic.

“He’s right, though.” A young fair-haired dwarf grinned. “You could have made up anything else. I mean ANYTHING.” He turned towards Legolas, with a sly look upon his face. “You could have said you were having intercourse…”

“I know I would.” The dark haired dwarf that had been singing before said, looking at Tauriel and winking. She turned red and hissed a small “eww” under her breath as Legolas narrowed his eyes.

“Fili, Kili… Shut your traps.” The red-haired dwarf lad from before came forward, looking at the elves with mistrust. “Bother us not, young elves and we shall not bother you.”

There was a slight silence after those words, as if every single dwarf respected what he had to say, but then Legolas took a step forward, his face but an inch from the dwarf’s face. Tauriel was reminded of Thranduil’s way of intimidating those beneath him.

“Bother? You are always a bother, wherever you go. You would be better of carving in your mines…”

The dwarf sighed.

“We would.” He mumbled. “But we who are close to Thorin have to attend school so that we can…”

“…turn into proper dwarf-lords.” All the dwarves chanted and he nodded.

“Why are you speaking like that, though, Gimli?” The fair-haired one called Fili piped up. “We need not to give these feathered peacocks any explanation whatsoever.”

“Because…” Gimli said, quietly. “I dislike elves as much as they dislike us and if we put those differences out on the table we might just be able to ignore each other in peace.”

A black haired dwarf laughed.

“I can lay my differences on the table!” He exclaimed. “The she-elves don’t have much chest, if you know what I mean…”

Everyone roared with laughter but Tauriel, hardly offended, was looking at the black haired dwarf in surprise.

“Are you… female?” She asked, staring in amazement. The black haired dwarf looked up and tilted his-her head slightly as her companions mumbled indignantly.

“Be cautious of your speech in front of Eydís daughter of Dáin Ironfoot.” Gimli narrowed his eyes facing Tauriel. “Sister of Thorin Stonehelm, heir of the line of Durin.”

Tauriel looked at Legolas nervously but he seemed not to care. She looked back at Eydís and sighed.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Tauriel!” Legolas snapped, angrily. “Stop apologising, by Valar! You stand in the presence of the prince of the Woodland Realm and yet you pay homage to a dwarf?”

Gimli roared with laughter and the other dwarves echoed him, making Legolas turn around, red in the face.

“What, may I ask, is so funny?” He growled.

“Nothing.” Gimli answered, still smiling. “We should have known, that is all…” All the dwarves laughed again, leaving Legolas confused and uncomfortable, ready to pounce on them in rage. Tauriel stepped forward and took hold of his arm.

“Legolas.” She muttered. “Let us go. Please listen to me, we should not be here right now. If Thranduil catches us, we’ll be dead… If the dwarf lord catches us, we might spend the rest of our lives locked up in a cell in Erebor… Let us go.”

A very embarrassed and angry Legolas let himself be dragged away by Tauriel as the dwarves kept laughing and they settled down at the other side of the rocks again. He was shaking in rage, but suddenly he calmed down and took a deep breath of fresh evening air.

“I really hate dwarves…” He said, concluding that night’s adventures.

Tauriel did not hear him. She was softly humming the song they had heard before around the fireplace.

 

 

*                 *                  *

 

On the dawn of the fifth day of their journey, Gandalf and the others finally reached Lothlórien, approaching from the South. It was a wonder to the eyes of the youngsters, who had never visited any elven dwellings before, but Théoden as well did not remain unimpressed. The sky was still a little dark as they had woken up well before dawn that day, and the trees spread blue shadows around them as they rode. The white lights that lead their path were already dimming, though, and they would soon go out by themselves. Háma, who rode next to Éomer, pointed upwards with his finger.

“What is that?” He asked. “It looks like a beacon tower.”

“He is right. That looks like the beacon of Amon Dîn…” Aendulas’ face shone at the opportunity to speak about her beloved Gondor. “It is probably built with the same kind of wood, we always use elvish wood in Gondor, we…”

“Shush!” Gandalf interrupted, and everyone went silent. A soft humming could be heard and the youngsters craned their necks to look deeper into the forest.

Faramir´s heart was pounding fast. Ever since he had been little, the elves had fascinated him for the vastness and the beauty of their culture. He had spent many sleepless nights reading about their history or learning Sindarin and Quenya out of sheer interest. Denethor had even caught him consulting his Palantír, thirsting for the kind of information that books could not show. Now he was really here, in the mythical Lothlórien, and it was ever so magnificent, just as he had expected it.

Éowyn rode at his side and saw the look on his face. It made her wonder, as Faramir had not shown many emotions since they had met; but the sight of the elven kingdom had clearly made his heart throb. She was slightly unimpressed by the shimmering lights, but they shone and danced on Faramir´s face and he looked almost elvish himself, although she laughed away that idea quite quickly. That Gondorian lad could never have that kind of blood in him.

Gandalf ordered a halt and both Éowyn and Faramir jolted back to reality, almost slipping of their respective horses. Everyone looked in the direction that the wizard was staring and let their mouths fall open in awe, for in front of them stood a group of elves so beautiful that even the lights in the trees seemed dark. They wore gray satin tunics that fell over their knees and velvety breeches of the same colour. High boots enclosed their legs and leather bracelets their arms. Dark green cloaks were fastened around their necks and all of them carried bows. Their hair was fair as the morning sun.

“Oh look…” Háma muttered. “They all share the same hairdresser.”

But Éomer, at his left, did not hear him, so impressed he was.

The tallest of the elves came forward and inclined his head.

“Mithrandir.”

He had a most musical voice and Éowyn could not help but smile at Aendulas, who returned it. He was clearly the model of the main characters in the books they read.

Gandalf spoke with the elf in rapid Sindarin, although he seemed to understand the common tongue, as he spoke with Théoden as well. After a quiet conversation, the elf beckoned them over with an elegant gesture and they followed him through the forest path until they reached a sight of utter beauty.

The tree was very old and very tall, standing much higher than the ones around and shadowing the most elegant of palaces. For it was a palace indeed, with sliver white stairs wrapped around the trunk. Beneath it stood no other than the Lady Galadriel herself, accompanied by her husband, Lord Celeborn. They too shone with a special light of their own, and the youngsters could hardly dare to look. Boromir and Éomer had seen her last year in school and swore she could read their souls and strip them naked in their heads. Faramir was shifting uneasily on his saddle, overwhelmed by the excitement of being there.

They did not get to meet their headmistress and future teacher, but Gandalf and Théoden spoke with them amiably, during breakfast. The youngsters got their own meal further away, near the river bank and, for the first time, discussed their experiences ensemble.

“She is so beautiful…” Aendulas was muttering. “How does she keep her skin that moist?”

Háma and Faramir had looked the other way, uncomfortable, and Boromir had laughed, but Éomer responded:

“Elven ladies are like that. Immortal, wise, fair, as said in the many tales written about them.”

Aendulas sighed, hardly noticing it was the Rohirric prince who had answered her.

“But I want to look like that! Is there nothing I could do?”

Boromir let out a snort.

“You cannot.” He smiled. “Your father should have married an elf…”

Aendulas stood up, frowning.

“My mother has elven blood in her!” She protested. Éowyn looked up in interest.

“Really?”

“Yes.” Aendulas sat down. “In fact, us Gondorians are very well mixed with the Sindarin…”

“That…” Faramir muttered flatly. “…is not entirely true.”

Everyone turned to look at him and he swallowed.

“Why not?” Éomer asked.

“Because… Only royalty and nobility mixed with the elves. So yes, Aendulas has elven blood in her and so have my brother and I… But most Gondorians are a mixture of the different races of man in Middle Earth…”

Éowyn was goggling and Háma laughed.

“Are you telling me that you have some elvish in you?” He guffawed.

“Why the Valar not.” Faramir grinned, making everyone giggle. Boromir could not help but look up surprised. If his little brother was making jokes, something strange yet hopeful was happening.

“That reminds me…” Éomer looked at Boromir. “Was that not one of the elven jokes we heard last year at the Third-Years’ party?”

Boromir laughed so loud that he banged his fists on the grass in front of him, shaking his whole body.

“That was so funny…” He smiled, wiping tears from his eyes.

The first-years to be looked at them, quite annoyed.

“Well, do share.” Aendulas frowned.

Boromir cleared his throat and regained his composure.

“Do you have any elvish in you?” He asked.

“No.” Éomer answered, playing along for the demonstration.

“Would you like some?”

There was a moment of silence and then everyone except Faramir was roaring with laughter. He shrugged.

“I don’t get it…”

“ELVISH. IN YOU.” Boromir was screaming with laughter.

“Oh.” Faramir sighed and looked away. He did not have the type of mind that jumped rapidly to that kind of conclusions.

They finished their breakfast in peace and soon afterwards, Gandalf urged them to ride on, for they were somewhat behind schedule. From now, they would ride from dawn till dusk, followed by the elves of Lórien that assisted High School Rivendell and their guardians. That fact drew the youngsters from Rohan and Gondor even closer, for they seemed to realize at last that the real racial differences were not as exaggerated between countries as they were compared to the elven folk. They stayed in tight formation for the rest of the journey, hoping to reach Rivendell very soon indeed.

 

*                 *                  *

 

They had travelled for many days. They were tired, dishevelled and hungry, not to mention in the worst of humours. The elf party led by Thranduil had got ahead of them, but they could still see them further along the High Pass. They were almost at the other end and were slightly comforted by that, but they did not like the idea of entering Rivendell together with the elves of Mirkwood.

Gimli sighed as they kept up the pace. His goat was sturdy and swift, but he was tiring out by now. Those creatures did not like to travel such long distances and halted not to showing their complaint: Fíli´s goat had already thrown his owner off twice, much to his resentment.

But his own goat was much calmer and did not try anything foolish, which Gimli was thankful for.

“Are you nervous?” The young dwarf looked up, startled, for he had been lost in his own thoughts. He saw Kíli’s smiling face at his right.

“No.” He answered. “ I just don’t like the idea of spending four years around elves… My father made me go against my will.”

Kíli glanced back at Glóin, who rode further down the line, between Balin and Ori.

“Yes… Our uncle is threatening us as well.” He mumbled. “If Fíli and I don’t get good grades this year, we will be sent to High School Rivendell the very next.” He closed his eyes briefly. “I thought he hated elves, yet he’s a teacher there and he clearly told our mother that we should go too. Isn’t that strange?”

Gimli sighed.

“It may be strange, for Thorin dislikes elves more than anything… But he has formed an alliance with Elrond of Rivendell in the past… Somehow he must have agreed to help him run this further…”

Kíli nodded.

“He even went there to school when he was young.” He added. “That’s where he met all of his friends, he told me.”

Gimli grinned.

“Not to mention his enemies, he must have made those too.”

The two lads laughed as Fíli joined them, bringing news from the front of the line.

“We are reaching the end of the High Pass.” He beamed. “Back there, I could already see the valleys surrounding the elven territory.”

Gimli looked up, glad to hear such news, for the strain of the journey was starting to take a toll on him. Some distances felt too far on a goat.

“Where?” Kíli asked, grinning broadly.

“Come, I’ll show you.”

The two brothers sped off, leaving Gimli to his thoughts. As he rode, he could not help but wonder about Thorin’s real motives to accept a teaching post at High School Rivendell and the elders’ decision to send their children there.

Eydís caught up with him, her thick black hair blowing in the wind and her blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

“I heard we’re nearing Rivendell?”

“Yes.” Gimli muttered. “We sure are, just beyond that gap.” He pointed where the two mountain walls joined and Eydís leaned forward to see, almost slipping off her goat in eagerness.

“Aren’t you excited, Gimli son of Glóin?” She smiled. “I can’t wait.”

Gimli burst out laughing, looking at her fondly. They were quite close, as she was his faraway cousin and their families dwelled together in the halls of Erebor. There weren’t many dwarf women where they lived, but Eydís had grown up well loved and well cared for. When they were small, she, Gimli and the other young dwarves used to play together every single day. Now they felt too dignified for games, but they escaped down to Dale to smoke from the pipes they had borrowed from their fathers. Balin had caught them once, when he walked past a vegetable stand and saw them perched on top of the roof of a chicken coop, blowing smoke at the heavens. He had shooed them away and had taken away their pipes, but had later roared with laughter at the dinner table, not sharing the joke with anyone. For that, they were forever grateful. Gimli smiled now as he remembered.

“No…” He said. “Not really. I like it in Erebor, it’s just us dwarves. Now you and me will be stuck here in Rivendell, with nothing but elves and men as companions and we won’t even be able to steal pipes anymore.”

Eydís let out a long clear laugh.

“My dear Gimli. Rivendell or no Rivendell, elves or no elves… Erebor or no Erebor, we shall always find someone’s pipe to steal, I promise you that!” She grinned. “Old traditions never really leave us.”

But old traditions did change when set in another time and space, Tauriel noticed as Legolas greeted the elf friends that had come to meet them from Rivendell. They had left the High Pass and had now to enter the Hidden Valley and a group of elves had been waiting for them to guide them. Legolas of course knew some of the young lads that rode out with their fathers, for Thranduil had often sent him to summer school under Elrond’s watch. Tauriel sighed as her friend rode into the valley of Rivendell with a group of chattering elves around him and wondered if that had been Thranduil’s intention all along: showing her she did not belong with them and that his act was sheer charity. She hung her head down, trying to hide her discontent, when more horse-hooves were heard and a group came galloping towards them from the South.

“Lothlórien!” One of the elven maidens shouted. “And Gondor! And Rohan!”

Tauriel looked up with interest as the group neared: The wizard Mithrandir at the front, with the Lothlórien guard she recognized as Haldir and the King of Rohan. Behind them came a whole group of elves and between them, close together and looking nervous, a few lads and two maidens, which she knew were the royal kin of the southern countries. She smiled, happy to see faces expressing the kind of emotions she felt as well, for her folk were usually more full in self-control. She was just about to move her horse to take a closer look when more hooves were heard and the dwarves they had been riding with, arrived behind them. At that point, the elven guard who had to lead them towards Rivendell, raised both his arms and spoke:

“Welcome! Now that all the expected later groups have arrived, I shall take you to the Hidden Valley.”

Legolas was already out of sight, and Tauriel moved on by herself, closely edging the first line of dwarves behind her. She smiled at the irony: Her royal friend was already inside Rivendell and she was at the bottom of the line, just in front of the dwarves.

The three big groups followed the guide elves through the rocks and soon came into the Hidden Valley; Rivendell. None of them were really sure of the entrance afterwards because everyone was staring in awe at the glittering rocks, the shimmering waterfalls and the beautiful trees that were strewn all over the valley.

Faramir grinned at the sight. Éowyn and Aendulas pointed out the waterfalls, claiming which ones had inspired the books they had read. Even Háma was spellbound, not to mention Gimli and Eydís, who almost forgot to say goodbye to their families and Fíli and Kíli. Every single one of the first years were awed at the sight, and when they dismounted in the square in front of the school, their legs were shaking from the impression, for there was not one dwelling in the world that could be compared to Rivendell. It shone brighter than the morning sun and it brought more peace than any age could have ever done.

“We’re here…” Éowyn muttered, and Faramir, beside her, could not help but nod in agreement.

The front doors opened and a tall, dark-haired elf walked out, bearing a tranquile smile.

“Welcome.” He said quietly, over the noise made by the animals. “To High School Rivendell.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Elves and men and dwarves
> 
> Éomer and Boromir introduce the group to Aragorn and Arwen. We find out who shares a room with who and what kind of teachers they all have. 
> 
>  
> 
> Yes, the room sharing is going to be awesome :) Stay tuned!


	3. Elves and Men and Dwarves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The students arrive and settle in at HSR!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay then!!! A couple of things :D
> 
> 1) In the LOTR movies Lindir and Figwit (or Aegnor, Malpomaen, etc...) were played by the same actor. Here, Lindir is a Third Year and Figwit is his cousin, in the Second Year. You can google him/them for further reference but he's mostly known for crying "My Lady!" when Arwen decides to GTFO the elven parade towards the Grey Heavens in the Return of the King.  
> 2)There's a little bit of Rohirric and Khudzul here. Translations are in order. 
> 
> (Rohirric)  
> True - Soð  
> Yes - Giese  
> I'm sorry - Ic besorgie  
> Look! - La!
> 
> (Khudzul)  
> Menu rukhas - Dine with orcs 
> 
> 3) As always, (last but not least) A thousand thankyees to my friend for the feedback, brilliant ideas, dwarf info and certain otp drawings :D

** Chapter Three **

** Elves and Men and Dwarves **

_“Do not look at him. DO NOT look at him. That was last year. This year will be different… Another dawn, another sunrise… Nothing has happened between us… Nothing whatsoever. You should not be ashamed, he meant nothing to you. Look for Aragorn, he should be around somewhere… Where is he? I need to fins him before he gets reunited with his friends. They need to know he belongs only to me.”_

 

High School Rivendell was a tall, endless building, climbing up the rock from one side and falling over one of the waterfalls on the other. It was connected to the surrounding dwellings with sleek stone bridges covered in vines from the sides, small flowers perched in between. In front of the handsome building, lay an entanglement of courtyards with elegant arches. Dozens of students were streaming under them, speaking excitedly and greeting their friends, some carrying their bags, others still holding their horse’s reigns. As Elrond spoke amiably with Gandalf and Théoden, Éomer beckoned his sister and Háma towards the group of elves who were busy registering the steeds.

“You have to say your name and you horse’s name and they will give you a special stable pass.” He explained, as Éowyn and Háma stared, dumbfounded at the well-woven system.

A young elf with high sculptured cheekbones and brownish hair inclined his head at them when they approached the line. He was wearing the school uniform already: an elven woven linnen shirt with a dark green tie tucked in soft breeches of the same colour and dark leather shoes. A piece of cloth was pinned to his breast stating he was a “Guider”. Éomer had explained earlier that the Guiders were somewhat older students who helped the teachers organize everyone and had certain authority. The elf in front of them certainly seemed to show just that.

“Welcome.” A shadow of a smile was seen on his face. “I am Elhadron, of the Fourth Year. I am also Stable Head. I will be registering your horses now. Please tell me your full name and that of your steed.”

Éowyn and Háma shared a look and tried not to laugh at the elf’s uptightness, so very different from their joyful Rohirric character.

“Stable Head? Is that really a thing?” She whispered, and Háma snorted, as Éomer gave her a little push. He felt quite annoyed that his sister was making that kind of remarks when he remembered quite well how nervous he had been last year. He had even been too awed by the elves’ presence to look at them directly in the eyes.

They recited their names and their titles to the Stable Head and they got a parchment each, informing them in which stable their horse would dwell that year, and a little map in order to find it. Éowyn’s eyes widened as she saw a complex drawing of lines, showing many levels and sections.

“How am I supposed to find Windfola?” She mumbled, as Éomer brought them towards the rest of the group.

Boromir was speaking happily with a dark-haired lad, whose grin shone from the other side of the courtyard. He looked up when Éomer came near and gave a shout of recognition.

“Éomer!” He exclaimed. They embraced. “My friend… how have you been?”

Éowyn was not paying attention, for she was still with her nose deep in the stable map, trying to make it seem as if there were some sense in it. She accidentally bounced into Faramir and he muttered something, irritated.

“What?” Éowyn mumbled, looking up. “This map is difficult.”

“For you, maybe.” Faramir shrugged. “Watch where you are going.”

Aendulas narrowed her eyes at her childhood friend.

“Shut up, Faramir.”

They were about to enter in a discussion when the young Gondorian lad heard once more the fatidic words:

“…and this is my young brother Faramir.” Came Boromir’s voice over the excited chatter. “I present to you, Aragorn, son of Arathorn… Or Strider, as he wishes to be called.”

Faramir inclined his head at his brother’s best friend and so did he in return. Éowyn, still busy with the map, ever not paying attention, barely heard Éomer’s words afterwards:

“And this is my baby sister Éowyn!” He said, proudly, standing aside so that she would be in Aragorn’s view. She looked up slowly, half irritated at the sudden introduction, completely furious at her brother’s words. But then her heart stopped beating for a moment and then it resumed, beating ever so fast, for in front of her stood the handsomest lad she had seen so far.

His hair was dark brown and it hung over his face wildly, very different from the elves surrounding him. His eyes were blue as the midsummer skies and he was just a little less tall than Boromir. He too wore the school’s uniform, but it looked better on him than it could have possibly looked on any elf, or at least Éowyn thought so. Suddenly her knees went weak and she found it relatively hard to breath, let alone stare at him and speak at the same time. Somehow, she grew conscious of her blinking, wondering if she was doing so too much or too little. She thought her heart would jump out of her chest when he took her hand in his, and said in a kind voice:

“Éowyn of Rohan… Your brother has spoken so much about you. Now that I have you in front of my very own eyes, I can only say that he said nothing but the truth. You are the spitting image of a true shieldmaiden of The Mark.” With that he inclined his head in honour, and took a step backwards. Éowyn was at loss of words and managed to stammer a small thank you with a heavy Rohirric accent.

Boromir could not help but notice her reaction and smiled, for even the strong and valiant Éowyn could not resist the kindness and good manners of his best friend. His smile turned into a frown, though, when he saw a sly look on Aendulas’ face. Was she expressing interest?

Faramir too, was looking sly, but in a different way. His first impression of Aragorn was that he seemed quite a maiden’s man, and Faramir detested that kind of behaviour. It would take him a long time to realize he was actually wrong about the young ranger.

Just as the three old friends were starting a long and excited conversation about their vacation, the tall slim figure of a female elf appeared in the courtyard. Many heads turned and quite a few voices quieted as she strode past them in a royal manner. She walked straight towards their group and nudged Aragorn so she could face them all.

She was very pale, like freshly fallen snow, and had long dark hair, much wavier than that of the elves surrounding her. Her eyes were pale blue, as if she were carrying a mysterious fog around with her and her lips were soft and red. Admits the paleness, her cheeks were quite rosy and the corners of her eyes had been painted black with coal. She was quite beautiful, except for the disgusted look on her face.

“Aragorn, where were you.” She muttered, and turned to Éomer. “Why is your hair so filthy?” She turned towards Boromir. “The collar of your tunic is up again. You look like one of those commoners that smoke pipe weed in the open…” She sighed. “Welcome back.”

Aragorn was grinning, Boromir was laughing and Éomer was combing his hair backwards with his fingers, looking oddly flustered. But Éowyn was staring at the elven maiden as if she had never seen anything as horrible in her life. She turned towards Faramir and Aendulas, wondering if they had the same look on their faces, and the Gondorian maiden sure looked surprised. Faramir, though, had slipped a book out of his leather night bag and was not paying attention to anyone.

“Youngsters.” Boromir said, importantly. “This is Arwen Undomiel, daughter of Elrond, Princess of Rivendell, captain of the Leading Maidens and vice president of the Student Council.”

Aendulas and Faramir inclined their head graciously, but Éowyn could not help letting out a little snort, which of course, did not please Arwen.

She walked towards her, eyebrows raised and Éowyn could not help but think she had made a terrible mistake.

“Tunic. Breeches. Clean hair yet a manly composure. Yes, very Rohirric indeed.” She said, slyly. “Why is it you Rohirric maidens never show us any curves?”

The tension in  the air was palpable. Boromir and Aragorn seemed to be interested in the situation whilst Éomer looked slightly uncomfortable, not knowing if he had to pipe up and protect his sister or let her fend for her own. Aendulas had hissed indignantly under her breath and even Faramir looked up. Éowyn narrowed her eyes.

“Women of my country learned to wield a sword instead of a needle.” She said, quietly. “Therefore we fight to protect our keep when all men have gone to war, and a long dress would not be the swiftest way to move in battle.”

Everyone waited for Arwen to retort, but she simply smiled with false sweetness and said:

“You should get settled in. Supper will be served soon.”

As if she had some kind of innate authority, everyone started walking automatically towards the entrance hall, beyond the elegant steps. It was surprisingly light inside, for the structure was wooden and let big gaps of sunlight come in. The walls were pale brown and there were many doors leading to other rooms. A single marble staircase stood in front of them, leading towards the other levels, and Éomer turned towards his sister and Háma.

“First years and second years are on the first level.” He explained. “The maiden’s rooms are in the left wing and the lad’s, in the right. Every bedroom has two students. The door number is shown on your entrance certificate, guard it with your life, alongside the stable pass.” He paused briefly. “We have to go to the Sanatorium’s office to get the keys.”

He pointed at a door right in front of them, black oak and a glass panel on top. The word “Sanatorium” was written in two languages (Westron and Sindarin), carved on a wooden panel above the entrance. Once they went in, the youngest were at loss of where to go, but before their siblings could help, another Guider stepped forth.

He was an elf as well, and his face was quite pale. He looked much older and wiser than anyone around them at that very moment and his calm face transmitted a sense of peace that surprised even Háma. His sleek black hair moved slightly as he walked towards them.

“First years, welcome.” He said with a curt smile. “I am Lindir and I will answer any questions you have about keys, rooms and stay in general.”

Éowyn and Háma could not help but smile and Faramir and Aendulas inclined their head in respect. The older students stood a little back, while another Guider handed them their keys, for their arrival needed not so many formalities. Éowyn caught Arwen staring at Lindir with a scowl on her face and wondered if she disliked him.

Lindir read everyone’s certificates and frowned slightly seeing Faramir’s. He looked at the Gondorian lad, questiongly.

“It says here you have your father’s signature to join the rugby team yet you have not attached the entrance slip.”

Boromir sighed deeply and Faramir looked uncomfortable.  
“I must have forgotten it.”

Lindir smiled kindly and handed him another slip.

“Fill this in right now… I will give the rest of you your keys and Faramir can catch up to you later.”

Boromir grinned, as Lindir started handing out their dorm keys and winked at a very disgruntled Faramir filling in three or four pages of personal details on his athletic being.

“We will wait for you on the first landing, to the right. Do not take too long.”

Faramir glared at him so fiercely that Boromir could feel his eyes burn on his skin, but he merely smiled and led everyone towards the corridor and the staircase to the other levels.

They ascended the steps and on the first level, Éomer and Háma turned towards the right with Boromir and Aragorn. Arwen led Éowyn and Aendulas to the left and they came in a vast corridor with many oaken doors, each carrying a solid gold number. Arwen turned around once, looking at them as she entered her room.

“First years, down the hall. Have fun.” And she shut the door behind her. Éowyn and Aendulas kept walking on, slightly disgruntled.

“Rooms of two…” Éowyn muttered.

“Yes.” Aendulas sighed.

“I have A25.” Éowyn said quickly.

Aendulas heaved the largest sigh and showed her her certificate.

“A26.”

Éowyn groaned.

“Why!?!” She cried. “I will never find another maiden who tolerates me!”

Aendulas could not help but smile.

“I do not tolerate you, Éowyn.” She said, kindly. “I like you. You are the closest thing I have had to a friend during this journey and I hope we can be that during these four years. Whoever we are paired up with.”

Éowyn smiled, moved by her words. She lay her hand on her door.

“Let us do so.” She said, firmly. “One…”

Aendulas lay her hand on her own door.

“Two…”

“Three.”

Both maidens turned their back on each other, and entered their respective rooms. Éowyn, as she strode in, caught a glimpse of a pleasant light wooded room with two comfortable looking beds and a couple of sturdy study tables. Then, she turned towards her roommate, who was already there.

She was an elf, Éowyn realized almost at once. She wore a green tunic and darker breeches, big leather boots reaching her knees. Her face was feminine yet powerful, and her long dark red hair reached her waist. When she saw Éowyn, she seemed to have lost all her faculties of speech.

“I… You…” She stammered, pointing at the Rohirric maiden. “The princess of Rohan!”

Éowyn was a little taken aback at that sudden title and pulled a face, leaving her leather night bag on the wooden floor. That maiden was not behaving like an average elf.

“I… Am.” She muttered. “Why?” She realized too late that question sounded stupid.

The elf could hardly contain herself.

“I did not expect to be paired up with royalty! Not at the least!” She sighed. “I’m sorry you have to share your room with a mere Silvan elf…”

Éowyn raised an eyebrow.

“If I knew what that was…”

The elf looked up.

“My name is Tauriel, and I am from Mirkwood. I am very pleased to meet you.” She said, kindly. Éowyn smiled at her.

“I’m Éowyn, but you seem to already know that. I am pleased to meet you, Tauriel…” Her Rohirric accent came forth again while pronouncing the Sindar name. “I care not about your rank. I like your tunic.”

Tauriel looked at her, feeling pleased.

“You do?”

“Aye.” Éowyn smiled. “I am relieved and happy not to be sharing a room with an uptight elf who strides past you with those long dresses all day.”

Tauriel giggled and Éowyn joined her.

“Many elves back in Mirkwood dress like me.” Tauriel said. “We are very fond of parkour and train viciously.”

Éowyn looked surprised.

“I thought elves only played lacrosse.”

Tauriel burst out laughing.

“Who told you that? Of course… we have major lacrosse leagues all over Middle Earth, but that does not mean we only do that…” She smiled again. “I am glad Rivendell has a team, though.”

Éowyn glanced at her.  
“Do the women play?”

Tauriel looked surprised.

“Of course they do.” She answered.

Éowyn hung her head, saddened.

“That’s not the case with rugby.” She muttered. “I love playing but I can only join them in practice.”

Tauriel looked pensive.

“Maybe you could join our school team…” She began. “I hear your brother is on the team…”

Éowyn shook her head.

“We spoke about this last summer. He told me not to insist.” She sighed deeply. “Alas, I cannot rebel against a whole school.”

Tauriel gave her a sympathizing look and proceeded unpacking her bags, as Éowyn slumped down on the bed that had not been claimed yet. It creaked softly under her but the matrass was so comfortable that she cheered up immensely. She ran her hand across the suave sheets, stroking the cloth and smiled. She wondered what Aendulas was up to.

“You should unpack before supper.” Tauriel said, softly, as if she were afraid of disturbing her. “I hear they are quite strict on the matter.”

Éowyn turned towards her, her smile wearing off a little.

“I shall.” She mumbled. “Thank you.”

 

                                *                      *                     *

 

Eydís and Gimli strode through the first floor corridor completely disorientated, glancing at the numbers on their keys and the doors that they passed.

“I still do not know which is the boy’s section and which is the girl’s…” Gimli mumbled, distraught. “Why do they have the same numbers on each side? What if we accidentally enter the wrong room?”

Eydís laughed and her voice echoed crystal-clear through the hall. Many other students strode past them, but somehow they were both male and female and it did not make it clearer in which section they stood. Gimli sighed.

“Should we ask?”

Eydís shrugged.

“I am still pretty sure the girls are on the left. You should go to the right. You should have listened to that elf in the San.”

Gimli growled.

“I have no intention in listening to anything an elf has to say!” He boomed.

Eydís gave him a cynical look.

“Well, you are a student at High School Rivendell, you might just have to get used to that now.” She said. “Besides… I know you to be much less radical than others about elves…”

Gimli narrowed his eyes.

“That’s before I met that little lord.”

Eydís laughed again and patted him on the shoulder.

“You got the best of him. Now calm down and go to the right. I’m quite sure that’s where the boy dormitories are. I’ll see you at supper.” And with that she walked away, twirling her key in her hand, leaving a nervous Gimli all alone out in the hallway. He looked around, took a deep breath and started walking in the opposite direction, looking for his room. When he found the number, he opened the wooden door and caught his breath.

The first thing he saw was a slender figure bent over a few bags, a long cascade of golden hair flowing down his back. Gimli tried to suppress a cry, utterly shocked at finding himself in the wrong room.

“I’m sorry ma’am!” He exclaimed, covering his eyes as if he had intruded into someone’s privacy. “I thought this was the boys’ section… I’m going to kill Eydís… I…”

But he was interrupted by a clear voice.

“I am no female.”

Gimli looked up just as the elf in front of him turned around and then they both cried out in shock.

“YOU!”

“YOU!”

For in front of him stood no other than Legolas son of Thranduil, who was gazing with his blue eyes wide open and a look of terror on his face.

“Why are you in my room?” He whispered.

Gimli held out his confirmation letter, very disgruntled indeed.

“Why are you in mine? I should be paired up with a dwarf, a man at the least… not an elf!”

Legolas walked swiftly towards him and looked at him, menacingly.

“I am not sharing with a dwarf!”

“Well, you’d better leave then…”

“You leave!”

“I will be dead before an elf makes me leave this room!”

“And I suppose you think you can make me leave instead?”

Legolas stomped furiously towards his nigh table and picked up an object covered in cloth. Gimli realized in shock that he had a palantír with him and wondered how spoilt elven princes really were. But Legolas was no longer paying attention to him, so he decided to ignore him and unpack his bags. They would settle this matter later, and maybe they could be assigned some other roommate.

“Father!” Legolas exclaimed suddenly, and Gimli looked up, only to see the elven king’s face reflected on the stone. His expression was tired and he looked at his son with annoyance.

“What? I have just made way for home and you are already asking for me? What is it now?” Came Thranduil’s voice.

“Ada, they have paired me up with a dwarf!” Legolas wailed. “I need you to do something.”

Thranduil sighed deeply on the other side of the Palantír.

“However tedious that might sound and outrageous it is indeed, there is nothing I can do about it at this very moment.” Legolas hissed in anger while he clutched the palantír tightly. “But, I am heading towards Lórien to discuss some matters with Lord Celeborn and I will have time to communicate with Lord Elrond there. Rest assured, ada will make this situation better…”

Gimli almost had to laugh at the king’s soothing voice that seemed to calm down Legolas. It would almost be worth it to share a room with him if he was going to be that amusing. But Gimli shook that idea out of his head swiftly enough… The sooner he would get rid of the elf, the better. He would speak to someone before supper.

 

                             *                      *                     *

 

When Eydís found her room, she was pretty sure she had gone in the right direction for now it was packed with maidens pulling their bags across the corridor. The young dwarf smiled and turned the key in the lock, gently pushing the door forwards. It creaked a little but it swung open with not much effort, revealing a cosy room with white walls and… Eydís took a step backwards.

A big spread of dark and dreary wall hangings had been splattered across the right side of the room, all unusually large and majestic. The young maiden hanging them up had very long dark brown hair and wore an equally dark dress, covering up her whole body. She turned around at the sound of the door and stared for a moment. Then she smiled curtly.

Eydís stepped in, still dumbfounded at the wall-hangings. There was the crest of Gondor, the white tree upon a dark shield… And various portraits of the kings of old. A big tapestry had been hung up as well, bearing ancient songs of Minas Tirith. Eydís’ lips twitched, bemused, and she looked at the slender figure standing before her.

“Welcome.” The maiden said, with all the nobility she could manage as she clutched a dark drape in her hands. “I am Aendulas of Gondor, niece of Beregond, the Steward’s second in command.” She walked slowly towards the young dwarf, clearly enjoying her somewhat sinister behaviour. “I like the dark and the dreary, my taste in music is exactly that, I read only gore and horror and I particularly enjoy learning about dark magic and offering blood sacrifices to the valar…”

Eydís left her bags on the floor, trying very hard not to laugh. Eyes twinkling she stared back to Aendulas and said:

“We seem to have similar taste then…” Suddenly Aendulas looked at her in horror. “As I thought.” She burst out laughing. “I am Eydís, daughter of Dain Ironfoot and I found your acting very amusing indeed.”

Aendulas smiled as well.

“If I were to be completely honest… I expected to be paired up with an elf, they are quite easier to scare with these kind of things.” She mumbled, apologetically. “I was just trying to change rooms so that I could be paired up with my friend.”

Eydís nodded.

“I understand. I would change with you but I have heard it’s a very strict system.” She pulled her bags upon her bed. “Yet do not worry! My brother had many friends and they all ended up in each other’s bedrooms feasting and drinking…” She laughed. “That did not sound right…”

“It did not.” Aendulas laughed and then smiled. “But Eydís! Tell me!

Do you happen to know when supper is?”

Eydís’ stomach grumbled and they both giggled.

“I have no idea but I hope it’s soon!”

 

                                *                      *                     *

Faramir stood outside his assigned room, key in hand, and heaved a massive sigh as his brother, Aragorn and Éomer all patted him om the shoulder while heading to their own dorms.

“Strider, you are with me!” Boromir was laughing, and Aragorn grinned broadly. They turned around towards Éomer.

“Who are you with?” Aragorn asked. “With Gamling leaving school and all…”

“Ugh, do not remind me of that!” Éomer moaned. “He was not the best of roommates but at least he was of home…” He sighed and looked at his friends standing solemnly in front of him. “I know not who I will be paired up with now.”

Their voices drifted off as they drew further away and Faramir felt oddly relieved to finally be left alone. He wondered if his roommate had already arrived and could very well imagine so, having been delayed in such nature filling in a paper for… rugby. With a look of utter disgust, he entered the room and his heart skipped a beat, for he just thought he had stepped into the Golden Hall of Meduseld once more. The whole right side of the wall had turned green, white and golden with all the crests that hung there and many self-painted banners expressed with all their might that Lôgrad was indeed an independent country. Faramir looked at his new roommate and sighed… He could have known.

“You?” Háma turned around and looked at him in surprise. “I did not know you were in my year.”

Faramir was quite astonished.

“I am Boromir’s younger brother…” He muttered. “We rode together all this way… Did you not know?”

Háma frowned, dragging another banner out of his bags.

“You were awfully quiet… I never realized…” He grinned suddenly. “I hope you do not mind the banners…”

Faramir narrowed his eyes at the patriotic display in front of him but said nothing of it.

“Not at all.”

“Good.” Háma smiled. “Thank you. Because I would burn the room to the floor if you were to hang your imperialistic Gondorian banners.”

Faramir looked up and felt his lips twitching, trying to force back a smile.

“That sounds awfully one-sided of you, does it not?” His eyes twinkled.

Háma laughed.

“ _Soð… Ic besorgie…_ ” He kept on unpacking, turning his back to Faramir.

“You do realize... I understood exactly what you were saying…” The Gondorian lad started emptying the content of his bags as well. “ I have read a lot of novels about The Mark.”

Háma looked up in disgust.

“So that is why you did not bring the rugby slip…”

Faramir turned red.

“That is not what I meant! That is so not what I meant!” He started dropping books upon his bed, furiously. “I simply like reading…”

“ _Giese_ , we get it…” Háma laughed. “Just like Éowyn, always reading those things…”

Faramir looked up.

“I thought the people of Rohan did not care much for reading…”

Háma narrowed his eyes.

“Is that a way of insulting me? Because I take that as a compliment… I am Háma and I am happy enough playing rugby, galloping over the fields and holding wild feasts.”

Faramir laughed.

“ _Ic besorgie_ … I meant no disrespect.”

Háma looked at him and somehow saw in him a gentleness that he had not expected from the young lad. Faramir seemed dry and self-centred and he had barely spoken during their journey but right now he was displaying another side of his, much more likable and enjoyable. He seemed genuinely good-natured, not to mention kind. Háma raised an eyebrow… he had made up his mind to speak a lot of Rohirric around him to anger him but that had had no effect at all… what’s more, Faramir had actually understood him and that made him, well, really likeable. Háma smiled.

“You know what, son of Gondor?” He said. “You can hang up a banner or two if you like… But… not too close to my side…”

Faramir laughed.

“I am here to complete an education so if I bother you, it will not be for my banners but because of my late night studying. I promise you, Háma, I will not cause any political trouble… I do not care enough.”

“You are weird.” Háma emptied the clothes of his last bag in the old wooden wardrobe, caring not to fold them. “But it sure is comforting to know that I won’t have to fight for my cause in my own room everyday.”

Faramir grinned.

“Too bad you were no maiden paired up with Aendulas. I would have paid gold to see that combination in one room…”

At that moment the super bell chimed loudly through the whole school and a massive scuttle was heard in the corridors, causing Faramir and Háma to stand up and follow everyone to the dining hall.

 

                                *                      *                     *

 

Éowyn seeked for Aendulas in the corridor while they were on their way to supper but she was nowhere to be found. Nevertheless, she knew she had already left her room for when they had knocked, there had been no answer. Éowyn smiled. She knew Aendulas could get really hungry…

Tauriel as well craned her neck, trying to spot Legolas in the crowd, but he was nowhere to be seen either. She felt rather abandoned by him but was glad of Éowyn’s company. As they streamed down through the oak doors into the dining hall, she thought that she had been really lucky that she had such a kind roommate as the Rohirric maiden had proven to be. Éowyn was childish and somewhat naïve, but that did not change her honest goodness and positive nature.

The dining hall was light and pleasant, decorated with white vines and flowers, containing dozens of tables with benches, making students go into a frenzy and push each other in order to sit with their friends. Some Guiders such as Lindir called for order but most of the students found it hard to settle down quietly. It was the first day of school after all…

Éowyn and Tauriel waited in line with their trays, behind a group of elven maidens that looked much older. When they were served, the elves in charge of the dining hall slipped all kinds of greens on their plates, accompanied by berries and some small pieces of meat.

“You can thank Lord Elrond for that.” Tauriel smiled, declining the meat politely. “Most not-elvish students felt faint on only greens.”

“I can only imagine…” Éowyn slipped extra portions onto her own plate under the stern eye of one of the servers. “In Rohan some of us do not even know the meaning of ‘green’.”

They chuckled as they moved towards the tables. Éowyn spotted Aendulas sitting not far from them, with a couple of… dwarves? She laughed and started heading towards her, accompanied by Tauriel.

“That’s Aendulas…” She told the elven maiden. “She can be a little strange but I am sure that you’ll like her…”

Tauriel gulped, nervously.

“I don’t really speak with maidens my age.”

“Neither do I…” Éowyn smiled. “But Aendulas is different. Trust me.”

It was then when she heard her brother calling, from a table nearby. They turned around to face the sound of his voice and saw he was sitting with Boromir, Aragorn, Arwen and a fair-haired elven maiden she had not seen before. Surprisingly, there was no sight of Faramir or Háma.

“Éowyn…” Éomer said. “Come and join us.”

Éowyn’s heart beat fast as she stared at Aragorn again, who was observing her through his piercing blue eyes. Her knees trembled. She wanted to join Aendulas but he was drawing her in on such a way…

“Sis?”

Éowyn looked up sharply and nodded. She was about to move towards the table when she saw Tauriel had taken a step back. She turned around, surprised.

“What’s wrong?”

Arwen stood up, with a laugh.

“Oh, Éowyn… You are so~ clueless…” She walked towards the elf. “Tauriel… is it not? Your Silvan Mirkwood friends are over there.” She pointed at a table somewhat further down the hall. “Run along now, I am sure they are missing you already.”

Éowyn stared in horror as Tauriel turned around and let out a cry to stop her.

“Why are you making her leave?” She asked Arwen, in anger.

Arwen sneered.

“Because, Éowyn of Rohan, who is she? Can you answer me that?”

“She is simply Tauriel.” Éowyn growled. “Is that not good enough for you?”

Arwen raised an eyebrow. Behind her, Boromir and Aragorn were eating their greens rather swift, staring at the scene. Many other tables were gazing in their direction as well and Éomer turned red, embarrassed.

“Éowyn!” He hissed. “Stop making a scene!”

The young maiden of Rohan felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of icy-cold water over her head. She turned around to face her brother. Had he really just asked her to stop making a scene? Her brother who loved her more than anyone and who had always showed her right from wrong? The same brother that calmed down her fiery tempers with a one-armed hug and who swore always to stay at her side? Éowyn felt rage boiling up inside, knowing he was only speaking so because of his infatuation with Arwen. With all the dignity she could manage, she stood up firmly and said:

“Well then… I shall stop making a scene. Come, Tauriel… Let us go! I want to introduce you to Aendulas…”

She moved away quickly, admits her brother calling, and Tauriel followed her, panic-stricken.

“Éowyn…” She muttered, as everyone around them gazed. “ Are you sure about this? You have every right to sit at our table… Arwen is right… I’m a mere Silvan elf, I do not stand next to royalty…” She sighed. “Legolas knew…”

Éowyn turned towards her, as they walked away.

“The real question is: do they have the right to sit at our table? Look around… exactly what I thought it would be: tables of royalty, tables of peasants… everyone is sitting in some pre-made groups that our ancestors formed upon feuds and misunderstandings.” She frowned at a table full of Gondorian lads that were discussing dwarf-music. “I think my brother and his friends are too influenced by the Lady Arwen to do anything about it so it’s up to us…”

Tauriel could not help but smile.

“I did not expect that from royalty… But I’m very glad you think that way…” She said. “I am so sick of living in the shadows of royalty, always feeling unwanted and inferior.”

“Then come with me.” Éowyn waved at Aendulas, who beamed back. “I care naught for blood and lineage.”

They arrived at the table and Aendulas cried out, pleased to see Éowyn.

“I am so sorry! I just had to run off… I was so hungry!” Aendulas grinned apologetically.

“No matter.” Éowyn sat down, followed by Tauriel. “This is my roommate Tauriel… And Tauriel, this is Aendulas…”

The two maidens inclined their heads at each other.

“This is Eydís…” Aendulas introduced her friend. “She is my roommate. And this is Gimli.”

Tauriel was looking at them in horror and tried to cover her face, suddenly recognizing the two dwarves from the other day. Éowyn, though, was staring uncomfortably, trying to guess which one of them was Eydís and which one was Gimli.

“You can stop with the looks now, lasses.” Eydís laughed. “I may not have such smooth hairless chins as you, but I sure am no mountain goat!”

The two maidens turned red and Aendulas laughed.

“Did you not know about the beards?” She asked them. “My father often took me to see the dwarves on his journeys… All dwarf maidens have beards.”

Tauriel looked down, apologetic.

“Actually, we have already met…”

“We have indeed.” Gimli mumbled.

“Yes…” Eydís raised an eyebrow. “The Mirkwood prince’s flat-chested bodyguard.”

Tauriel turned even redder.

“Come now!” Gimli exclaimed. “She is clearly not with… that… now, is she? Give her a chance!”

“Right you are, laddie… as always…” Eydís gave him a friendly punch that would have crushed any man in that hall and turned to Tauriel, with a smile. “The fact that you’re not sitting with a crowd of elves makes me like you more.”

Tauriel laughed a little and Éowyn and Aendulas let out their contained breath, quite glad a fight had not broken out. 

The meal their shared was actually quite fun. Aendulas could keep any crowd entertained with her stories of Dôl Amrôth and all the other places she visited during the holidays. Éowyn and Eydís described their favourite food – triggered mostly because of the greens and the lack of proper meat – and ended up debating which of them ate better breakfasts, Gimli joining in eagerly. Even Tauriel opened up and everyone laughed at her amusing tales of her military training in the Greenwood. When she mentioned Legolas, though, she went still.  
“So he was you best friend since childhood and suddenly you start school and he just… joins some other elves?” Éowyn asked, amazed.

“Tell him to _menu rukhas_ …” Eydís exclaimed.

“He sounds wonderful.” Aendulas said, ironically.

“He is my roommate.”

Everyone turned to look at Gimli.

“WHAT?” Eydís started laughing. “Is this a joke?”

“It is not.” Gimli sighed. “Stop laughing.”

But Eydís was banging her fists on the table, creating a lot of unwanted attention. She was screaming of laughter.

“YOU AND THE PRINCE!” She guffawed. “Oh Dúrin! Thank you for this! I am loving it!”

Tauriel was laughing too.

“So am I!” She exclaimed. “Oh, Legolas must be so angry…”

Legolas was indeed writhing with anger at the table where he was having supper. Many of his Rivendell, Lórien and Mirkwood friends were sitting beside him but none were able to sooth him. They regarded him with certain respect, as he was Thranduil’s son, but they also found it funny that they had paired him up with a dwarf.

“I do not understand Lord Elrond’s rule…” A brown haired elf spoke out loud, looking at Legolas. “Did you not go to him before supper? I thought he would surely change you.”

“He did not want to.” Legolas pursed his lips and played around with his greens.

That was not entirely true. Just before supper, Legolas and Gimli had both ventured into Elrond’s study where they found him looking over some calendars with Lord Celeborn. Elrond had greeted them with an elegant inclination of the head and Celeborn had left the room so that they could speak freely.

“My Lord Elrond.” Legolas had said. “I have been assigned to a room with this… dwarf. I find that quite disrespectful. I am Thranduil’s son, I have more reason than anyone to dislike dwarves, I…”

Elrond had then slowed him down, simply raising his hand, and ignoring, at the same time, Gimli’s outraged splutters.

“Legolas Thranduilion.” He had said, calm but firm. “In High School Rivendell we do not tolerate such behaviour. This is no place to celebrate old feuds or even think about them. Master dwarf… Gimli, is it not?” He turned his attention to the lad. “I am very pleased Thorin decided to send you here and also, that he accepted the post as Arts and Crafts teacher, or as you youngsters call it: woodshop.” He smiled vaguely. “It took Thorin a great while to convince him to come, even though Thranduil’s presence in the school remains visibly unhidden. But he chose to come anyway and to send his kin, which gives me hope. If a proud and stubborn lord can lay aside his differences for the sake of the education of youngsters, surely you two can lay aside yours for at least a year…”

“A year?” Gimli had asked then.  
“Yes… A year.” Elrond had smiled. “If after this year you two decide you cannot live together, I will do my best to reassign your roommates. That is a promise.”

Of course, Legolas had stormed off but Gimli had felt oddly relieved. Lord Elrond seemed like a reasonable school head, encouraging student well-being. He would concentrate on his own things that year and ask for a different roommate afterwards. In the meantime, he would enjoy Legolas getting upset about all sort of things. He had already started making a mental note with all the dwarvish behaviour he could pull forward and exaggerate while they shared a room together.

But Legolas was not planning anything. He let out a loud wail at the table.

“Why were there no more elves in my grade to pair up with?” He lamented.

“Or more dwarves…” Lindir grinned, laying his tray beside the elf and sitting down. “Who has been paired up with who, though?”

“Elessar is with the Gondor lad again.” An auburn haired elf said, quickly.

Lindir went stiff but said nothing.

“He meant first years.” An elf that looked exactly like him said.

“Well, I answered something of my own interest.” His twin growled.

“Why do you always have to answer things that nobody cares about?” The other twin growled even fiercer.

“Elladan… Elrohir… Stop it.” Lindir mumbled. “I am so sick of you two.”

Legolas wailed again, and everyone looked at him once more.

“Melpomaen… Are you not in my year?” He asked the brown-haired elf that had spoken at the beginning. “Who did you get?”

Melpomaen sighed deeply and muttered:

“The Rohirric lad… Éomer. And no, Legolas, I am not in your year. I’m in the second year…”

“Oh this is terrible! If only they had let me pair up with Taur…” Legolas sat up straight. Where was Tauriel? He realized suddenly with a guilty pang that he had left her all alone in the midst’s of the excitement of seeing his friends again. He stood up quickly and sought for her, but when he came upon her table he saw that she was sharing it with none less then Gimli. Legolas backed away quickly.

“I will speak to her… later.” He muttered under his breath.

Tauriel did not see him. She was far too busy having fun with people who understood her for once. None of them were equal in thought, but somehow it worked and Éowyn herself was surprised at how easy it had been. On the morning she had left Edoras, she had still feared the thought of meeting other maidens but now there they were: an elf, a dwarf and two of the race of man, conversing in peace as if there had been no wars… As if there were no present ones either.

But things were different at her brother’s table, where Boromir and Éomer were both complaining loudly.

“This is not what I had in mind!” Boromir said, quite annoyed. “Why did Aendulas sit over there by the dwarves?” He turned towards Arwen. “Did you speak to her as well?”

Arwen sneered.

“I did not.” She laughed. “Why should I?” She turned towards Aragorn, who was staring at them both. “Why do we not speak about this year’s rugby season? I will cheer for you…”

Boromir banged his fist on the table.

“And where is Faramir? Where is my brother?” He stared around the hall and suddenly spotted him at a distant table with… was that Háma?

“I hear they are roommates.” Éomer muttered. “Why can Háma not be in our year? I got Figwit…”

“YOU GOT FIGWIT?” Aragorn and Boromir suddenly burst out laughing, and Arwen smiled gleefully.

“Oh you…” She said. “Melpomaen is the best assistant anyone could want… He will do my homework whenever I say…”

“Yours maybe… He hates me.” Éomer groaned.

“Maybe, and I might be wrong…” Aragorn began. “… it’s because you started calling him Figwit in the first place… and now the whole school does… Even his elven friends, behind his back.”

“He is truly unfortunate.” Arwen grinned. “Poor Fig.”

Boromir smiled, but his face grew wary again at the sight of his brother laughing along with the Rohirric lad. He sprung up and walked towards them almost in a strut as the tables around him all looked up. He stood still behind Faramir, who was laughing. He suddenly felt the presence, though, and turned around, facing his brother. The smile he wore was wiped off when he realized Boromir looked quite angered.

“Little brother.” He said, softly. “Come sit with us… at our table.”

Faramir raised an eyebrow and suddenly the smile was back.

“It’s alright, Boromir… I’m alright here.” He said, gently. His brother was just trying to protect him and had thought he would be uncomfortable without him around. But Faramir was not uncomfortable at all… He found Háma’s company quite pleasant, strangely enough, for their string of thoughts was rather different.

Boromir remained motionless, puzzled, not knowing if Faramir was trying to be proud or if it was something else… But Faramir was not stubborn like him and he seemed genuinely relaxed there, which made him even more annoyed.

“Faramir, just come…” He muttered.

“No… I’m fine here with Háma…” Faramir was puzzled now. Why could Boromir not leave him alone? He seemed really angry. Faramir hoped he would not make a scene because he had made many heads turn already and being the centre of attention was not his favourite way to spend time. But his brother, luckily, did not make a scene and simply stormed off, causing everyone to turn back to their plates and continue eating. Faramir heaved a sigh and turned back to his greens as well.

“Your brother seems…” Háma started to say.

“Yes.” Faramir cut through. He smiled. “He is always a little too overwhelming, really… And I am not sitting at a table full of second year rugby players either.”

“That makes two of us…” Háma laughed. “Too much Gondor there…” He suddenly looked up. “Curse me! I keep forgetting you are also from that wretched country…”

Faramir let out a snort of laughter.

“Just… eat your greens.”

 

*                      *                     *

 

There was not much leisure time after supper that day, for everyone was tired and the very next day would be an early one for all students. Nevertheless, Lindir took the First Years to their common-room which they shared with the Second Years, and however tired they were, all of them were amazed by the spacious room with a veranda that withheld a view over Rivendell. Many couches were in the room, and also desks, bookcases, game boards and pillows. It looked quite comfortable and the students decided unanimously that they were going to have the best of times there together.

As they walked back towards their rooms, Legolas seeked for Tauriel, who was laughing with Éowyn about something. He enclosed his fingers around her hand and pulled her away abruptly, taking her towards the staircase so they could speak.

“Legolas!” Tauriel exclaimed angrily.

“Tauriel… I… eh…” Legolas sighed. “Where were you?” He muttered.

“Where was I? Where were you!” Tauriel sounded indignant.

“Well, at least… you made friends…” Legolas looked the other way. “I was… ah… a little occupied greeting my old friends…”

Tauriel suddenly relaxed and laughed. This was the closest Legolas Thranduilion could ever come to an apology.

“That’s… quite alright.” She smiled. “Come now, we have a curfew.”

And with that they smiled and ran back together to their respective rooms.

It would not be easy for the new students to settle down. It never was. But even though some wished they had had not argued with their siblings and others still feared whether they actually fit in, they could not help but smile by themselves and mutter that the following day would be better. And on many ways, it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: 
> 
> All students gather together in the Assembly Hall for information. They get to meet their teachers.
> 
> Will Éomer and Éowyn stay mad at each other? Will Arwen keep being such a *insert word here* ? What will happen in *Go, Rivendell* ? Stay tuned :D


	4. The Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrond holds an entrance ceremony for all the students and later the first years get to meet their teachers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I am dreadfully sorry for the long wait~ first I had my finals and then came the summer heat... 
> 
> 2\. There's some Rohirric in this chapter: fréond (friend) and hlæfdige (lady). We also have some sindarin at the intro: Guren níniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham (My heart shall weep until I see you again)
> 
> 3\. My friend and I came up with some good old drunk feedback these last few weeks so have fun reading the ideas that we came up with :D 
> 
> 4\. This chapter was previously called "Go, Rivendell!" but that chapter got pushed to number five~
> 
> 5\. In this chapter we introduce Saeltheria, Arwen's elven friend, not very nice.
> 
> 6\. Remember: Yes, Fíli and Kíli are older than Gimli. No, not in HSR... I like the idea of them being young rascals.
> 
> 7\. Important: I will post preaviews and doodles on the tumblr page I made for this: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/highschoolrivendell
> 
> 8\. Note: Angelica Baggins really does exist. She's Bilbo's cousin. You can even see her on google images, from the game version.
> 
> 9\. Faramir's opinion about elves is not purely based on facts... it's mostly his own perception of them.
> 
> That's about it! Enjoy! New chapters coming soon :D

** Chapter Four **

** The Ceremony **

 

_Guren níniatha n'i lû n'i a-govenitham. No one knows how much I miss you. If there would be still hope for you to live a plentiful life, my heart would leap with joy and I would sing for you every day, just as you always pleaded me to do. But you are lost, forever it seems, and I cannot overcome my grief. Yet our family gives me strength and I will try, unlike you, to not give up._

 

Lord Elrond strode calmly past the gardens of his dwellings and gazed at the school he was so proud of. The first lights of dawn glistered on the windows and the vines around the building changed swiftly from a shade of purple to an idyllic green. He let out a small sigh and walked, pensive, towards the small stream that ran through the gardens, carrying small brown leaves along its way. Autumn was upon them and the last essence of summer was swiftly washing away downstream, making Elrond close his eyes and feel the warmth of the sun on his cheeks. He always felt sadder at this time of year, when the cold months were about to arrive… a strange sense of melancholy spread upon him, only broken by the first sight of snow.

“Why do you fret, Lord of Rivendell?” Came a sudden soft voice behind him. Elrond spun around fast, never fully accustomed to Galadriel’s quiet approaches. He sighed.

“Galadriel.” He inclined his head in acknowledgement. He then slipped into Sindarin. “The cold is heading this way.”

“It’s that time of the year again.” Galadriel answered. She gazed into Elrond’s eyes and saw a worry that had nothing to do with the weather of the world. “Your only preoccupation now should be the education of your children, kin and no kin.” She said softly. “Remember that, Elrond.”

He nodded but she had already left. There was kindness in her heart but she knew all too well why he fretted and had only drawn near to tell him he should not do so. Elrond knew he should stop the endless string of thoughts on the same matter that had pained him for years, but sometimes he could not help himself. There was a little more blood of the race of men in him than in Galadriel, after all.

 

*                      *                     *

 

Éowyn woke up with the sound of a loud bell clanging and sat up bold in bed, which was quite surprising for she was a deep sleeper and it was really hard to get her to wake up. She looked around the room and realized with a shock that Tauriel was already fully dressed and sitting on her bed, watching her.

“I thought you would never wake up… it’s the third bell already…” Tauriel grinned, running her hand through her thick red hair. “ I was just about to wake you and then you sat up and scared me half to death.”

“You don’t look scared half to death…” Éowyn grumbled and groped around in the bags under her bed for her school uniform. Tauriel smiled.

“Still not fully unpacked?”

Éowyn gave a short laugh.

“My dear Tauriel… unpacking is a skill which I have not been blessed with. What’s remaining in my bags will come out eventually as I need it… And right now I need my uniform… and my books… and maybe some ink…” Éowyn fumbled about, hanging from her bed, until she lost her balance and fell on the floor with a loud thud. Tauriel sprung aside and went into fits of laughter just as their door burst open and Aendulas came in, also already in her school uniform.

“What on Earth are you doing?” She exclaimed at a dishevelled Éowyn laughing on the floor and an even more hysterical Tauriel next to her.

“I was just trying to find my uniform… wait… how did you get in?” Éowyn frowned slightly. “Did we not lock the door?”

Eydís walked in behind Aendulas holding a hairpin in her hands.

“No door will ever stop a dwarf.” She grinned. “Why are you not dressed yet? Did you not hear the bells?”

“I heard one of them…” Éowyn pulled out her bags from under her bed and emptied their contents on the floor. “Where did I put my uniform?”

Aendulas sighed and pointed at the closet.

“That has a function, you know…”

“Oh really, I thought it just served to hide in when you came by…”

Aendulas picked up a boot and threw it at Éowyn, who retorted by sending some linen flying to her head. Soon the room was filled with laughter again as the four of them started casting objects at each other. It wasn’t until they heard a sharp knock on the door that they stopped.

“Maidens…” Came the atoned voice from the doorway. “This is no way to behave when you should be trooping off to breakfast.”

She was small, very small, and clearly a teacher. The four maidens stood up quickly and formed a line in front of her, wondering how they looked right now: four wild-haired maidens – one still in her nightgown – eyes downcast on the floor.

The teacher had dark auburn hair in a bun and was, indeed, quite tiny. She wore robes not unlike the school uniform but they were all brownish and simple. Behind the small spectacles perched on her nose, shone a couple of bright turquoise eyes.

“Pick up this mess and move along… immediately.” She ordered, firmly, although she looked quite fragile. As she walked away, Arwen appeared in the threshold.

“My my… Have you managed to anger Miss Baggins? You really are off on a good start.” She said, slyly. Éowyn scowled.

“Why is everyone in my room?”

Arwen left, laughing and Eydís turned to Aendulas.

“She seems nice.” Came the ironical remark. “Is she the elf you spoke about earlier?”

Aendulas sniggered.

“The one with the attitude, yes.” She suddenly looked up. “Everyone is already going down to breakfast!” She exclaimed. “Unless you want to go alone, get dressed, Éowyn!”

Éowyn muttered something and quickly pulled on her school uniform. As she fastened the skirt and tucked in her shirt, she felt uncomfortable, for she had always preferred breeches but the others did not seem to mind that much, except maybe Eydís, who complained grumbling that the uniform was made to fit elves and not dwarves.

As they walked down to breakfast, they met Boromir and Aragorn accompanied by Éomer and Éowyn looked the other way with a scowl. Boromir, though, walked over to Aendulas and grabbed a lock of her hair.

“Where were you yesterday? Why did you not sit with us?” He asked, as she pulled away from him.

“I came down early with Eydís.” Aendulas answered. “And I am under no obligation to sit with you…” Boromir looked taken aback. “And neither is Faramir… Nice scene yesterday.”

Boromir looked surprised and even a little hurt, but his face soon brightened up again and he ruffled her hair.

“Boromir!” Aendulas exclaimed, trying to straighten the locks that had come lose from her hairdo. “Leave me be!” She trotted downstairs, in front of Éowyn and Tauriel who could not help but smile.

The group entered the dining hall together and found out that most tables had already been taken, as they were really late. Boromir led the group towards where he had spotted Faramir and Háma and they reluctantly all sat down together.

“May we?” He muttered to his brother.

Faramir, a book in his hands, shrugged without even looking up. Háma was writing something on a piece of parchment which he stuffed in his pocket at their arrival.

“The whole group together… This is nice.” Aragorn smiled and Éowyn looked up from her oatmeal. She smiled a little but then her face hardened when he asked: “Where is Arwen?”

“Over there at the Leading Maidens table…” Éomer, of course, had already visualized her. “With Saeltheria… I think they might do a performance today at breakfast.”

Aendulas narrowed her eyes and looked at her friends.

“Why would anyone want to cause a deliberate indigestion?”

Éowyn and Tauriel tittered but Eydís looked confused.

“What are Leading Maidens?” She asked. “Never heard of them.”

Aragorn turned her way.

“Eydís, is it not?” She nodded and he proceeded. “Many games have their won group of Leading Maidens, they dance and sometimes sing to animate their team to victory. In High School Rivendell we have many different games… Boxing is the dwarves’ favourite sport, and lacrosse is the elves’… But us men play rugby and the Leading Maidens cheer for us. Arwen is their captain.”

Eydís was starting to exhibit a face of disgust.

“So instead of playing rugby they dance so that you play better?”

Éowyn looked up, indignant.

“Of course!” She exclaimed. “Men always think women are merely another jewel in their pouch. We serve only to look at! It does not matter if we play rugby better than our brothers, we shall still be hidden in the dark!”

“Better than our brothers!?!” Came Éomer’s offended voice.

“True.” Háma muttered. Éomer looked indignant.

“Is that so?” Boromir was shaking with laughter. He really liked the fiery little maiden.

“No, it is not!” Éomer, embarrassed, stood up and left the table, making the laughter die down suddenly. Even Faramir had looked up. Éowyn felt a little guilty, but Éomer had behaved badly the other day as well. She had an internal fight whether to follow him or to stay there but that string of thoughts was interrupted by a shout. Everyone spun around towards Arwen.

She was standing on the table with her fair-haired friend and another elf, whose hair was even whiter. The other elves had gotten up on the benches and stamped their heels for a rhythm.

“Welcome, students, to another year at High School Rivendell!” She cried, waving her hands in the air. Everyone cheered. “I am Arwen Undomiel, captain of the Leading Maidens! I shall be holding try-outs early this week and so shall the other teams in the school! If you have what it takes, write your name on the piece of parchment that I shall leave on this table.” She smiled malevously. “But only if you have what it takes… You do not want to waste my time.”

And with that she hopped graciously on top of the shoulders of the other two and completed a perfect pirouette in the air, only to be caught by the others at her landing. The whole dining-hall cried in wonder and the Leading Maidens walked away blowing kisses to the crowd. Éowyn scowled and turned to Tauriel.

“I think I may hate her.”

“It might be too soon for an early judgement but I feel strongly the same way…” Tauriel remarked. “Yet I admire her for controlling the whole room at once and leaving everyone – most of us – speechless.”

“Anyone can do that.” Aendulas laughed. “If I start dancing on this table, all attention shall be focused to me… it is inevitable.”

They laughed.

“Sign up then.” Eydís said.

“No.”

Boromir suddenly heaved a sigh and everyone turned towards him. He looked around and shrugged.

“Arwen just reminded us about the season…” He said. “I wonder when they will tell us who is going to be class captain.”

Aragorn smiled gently.

“Probably you…” He grinned. “Did you know Damrod has become games captain of the entire school?”

“Of course.” Boromir answered. “You may be afraid of him but he is our friend… We visit him often in Ithilien.”

Aragorn narrowed his eyes, but laughed. He didn’t really fear Damrod, he was just a little in awe of him, like many many others.

“So…” Everyone turned to Éowyn. “… each class has a captain and then there is another captain for the entire school?”

“Exactly.” Aragorn smiled sweetly and she turned red. “Last year, Boromir was chosen after the first week… He probably will be chosen again.”

Boromir sighed and shook his head slightly, as his friend patted him on the back, but Aendulas, who had been drumming with her fingers on the table, looked up.

“You are good.” She said, softly. She turned to the others. “He is good.”

Suddenly they were interrupted by a very sleepy Gimli.

“Good morning.” He mumbled, sitting down at the table. Everyone laughed. He looked so tired that Eydís suspected he had been up most of the night again, playing games. In Erebor they had a powerful source of technology that had been developed from arkenstonian materials and it had permitted the dwarves to design certain artefacts that resembled the palantír’s network. She knew Gimli used his gamestone far too often and she wondered if his roommate had been very bothered about it. Her question was answered when a very disgruntled Legolas came walking into the hall and slumped down at a table nearby, glancing at them with a cold stare. Eydís turned slowly to her friend.

“Gimli… The elf is staring at you…”

Gimli spun around, suddenly awake and growled at Legolas, who kept his piercing angered look. He turned towards Eydís again.

“That elven lad is way weird, let me tell you.” He mumbled. “He won’t stop looking at me with hatred, as if judging everything I do. It’s not like it’s my fault that they have shipped us together. I mean… I don’t want to be his roommate either…”

Éowyn and Aendulas merely smiled but Tauriel piped up.

“Legolas is not a bad person… He simply has predetermined ideas fixed in his head… But alas, who can blame him with Thranduil as his father…”

“That’s interesting…” Eydís said, amused. “I did not know Mirkwood elves spoke ill of their own king…”

Tauriel turned a little red, but Éowyn came at her rescue quickly enough.

“Why should she not? I sometimes disagree with my king… Just because she is an elf does not mean she should follow her lord blindly… It all depends on our own individual line of thought. I think Tauriel has more respect for dwarves than most elves… Do you not?”

Eydís nodded, thoughtfully.

“I guess that makes sense… it’s merely weird…”

Faramir looked up and suddenly spoke.

“Elves have a different kind of respect for their kings than the race of man.” He said, quietly. “Their respect is based on the concept of the divine right to rule… Their king is not only their spiritual leader, but also who they follow to every moral extent. Everyone is the king and the king is everyone… quite different from our conception. We choose the man we like most at that moment to become our ruler… Because he might have won a certain battle at a certain point… But somehow, elves already know who will win their battles. They will plant their entire lives in the hands of the king that is chosen… And who they choose is the rightful one to do so.”

Everyone remained silent after that, staring at Faramir in awe. All except Éowyn, who felt a little put down by the extent knowledge of the lad.

“You speak as if you know so much of elf-lore… What has that to do with anything…?” She muttered. “Why can Tauriel not differ in her opinion? Is it not possible? Is that Thrandywill that divine anyway? It’s not as if we are speaking of the valar or something…”

“Ah…” Faramir muttered. “It is actually ‘Thranduil’, not Thrandy… whatever it is that you did say. And I have just explained extensively why Tauriel would not be inclined to differ. Have you not listened?”

Everyone was staring at the two of them, as if they were a very interesting rugby match.

“Well I have been tempted not to.” Éowyn smiled curtly. “Can you really englobe a whole culture when you speak?”

“Maybe not all cultures.” Faramir remarked. “But the elven culture is rather one-sided.”

“Surely not all cultures.” Éowyn laughed. “And the elven one neither. Tauriel is speaking in a friendly manner with dwarves… And Aendulas is speaking in a friendly manner with people from Rohan… Everyone is talking to each other, in fact. Everyone here is an individual, we are not predetermined by our culture.”

“Are we not?” Faramir raised an eyebrow. “They say Rohirric maidens tend to be more like the men… Can you not identify with that?”

Éowyn jumped up.

“Why are you so limited?” She exclaimed. “For a person who states opinions in such free manner, your views are quite unbranched.”

“Yours are wider than I expected from a Rohirric maiden, though.” Faramir stated slyly. “I am truly glad to hear something different than rugby coming out of your mouth.”

At that point, gasps were uttered around the table.

“Faramir!!” Exclaimed Boromir and Aendulas at the same time. He looked up.

“What in Minas Anor?” Aendulas sighed. “Éowyn has not only spoken about rugby. Did you even listen to her conversation? She has read ALL the Hyves and Tides, just like you!”

Suddenly Boromir burst out laughing.

“Have you read… that?” He banged his fists on the table. “Little brother!”

Faramir flushed bright red.

“It… has a great deal of history and descriptions on Dôl Amrôth… I was reading it for research.”

“Sure you were…” Aendulas guffawed. “You were not reading it at all because of the romance between Dender and the lady Anien. AT ALL.”

Faramir flushed even brighter as Éowyn laughed.

“I think it would be wise to keep your extensive opinions to yourself, little brother.” Boromir said, wiping tears from his eyes. “Certainly if you are trying to go up against Éowyn and Aendulas. They seem quite strong on their own…”

Tauriel, who had nervously stared at the two in discussion, heaved a sigh of relief now that the conversation had taken a turn to the better. She had been surprised and rather taken aback that such rowdiness had started because of her, but she had felt rather touched at Éowyn’s fierce defence. The fiery Rohirric maiden must have thought she was alright. Tauriel felt happy to have found a friend. She turned back to Faramir, who was still muttering under his breath, embarrassed.

Háma, who had been looking at everyone bemused, patted Faramir on the back and made him spill his tea a little. But far from being annoyed, he simply seemed to not care and he stared back at Háma, who smiled.

“Do not come on Éowyn’s bad side.” He warned him. “Come now, let us explore the place before we have to go to the entrance ceremony!”

They stood up and walked away, but Faramir’s eyes caught Éowyn’s and she pulled a malevolency face, mouthing: _not my bad side_. Faramir sighed, wondering where a maiden would learn such irrational behaviour and followed Háma quietly out into the corridor.

He was not easily angered. His whole life he had learned not to care. But somehow that fiery little maiden had just made his blood boil, increasing levels of frustration he did not even know he had in him. He sighed and tried to calm down, as Háma fumbled with the lockers in the hallway.

“Can we use these?” He muttered, as Faramir slowly began to breath steady. The young Gondorian lad walked towards the lockers as well and stroked the iron door of the nearest.

“I suppose so…” He sighed. “But I think all that will be explained at the entrance ceremony…”

Háma nodded and then laughed.

“Do not let Éowyn bother you too much… I know I said before that you should not get on her bad side… But the truth is, she does not really have a bad side…” He smiled. “She cannot stay angered at a person for long… It’s just not her nature… But she will bluntly say what she thinks of you every single moment of the day and she might also be a little aggressive, so avoid being alone with her and a sharp object.” He snorted, seeing Faramir’s look. “Just teasing.”

Faramir shrugged, as he examined the lockers again.

“Why should I even care? One cannot debate with someone like that.”

“Really?” Háma looked surprised. “I thought she discussed the elven-lore quite well with you.”

Faramir groaned and stared at him.

“Háma of Rohan.” He said, calm but strained. “You do not know me so I do not expect you to be surprised, but I do not usually lose control. I did now. There is something about her that scares me… I cannot treat her like others… I cannot shrug off her remarks, because they burn right through me. Whether it’s anger or impatience, I do not want to feel it… So tell me how I can avoid situations like before and help me regain control.”

The young Rohirric lad was a little surprised at those words, wondering if Faramir had gone completely mad. If Éowyn exasperated him, he had not shown it during the ride to Rivendell… Had he really been holding this in for so many days? Háma frowned, wondering if was really anger what the Steward’s son felt.

“You should just be yourself…” He answered, in the end. “I’m pretty sure – after this outburst – that there’s more to you than _Serious Faramir_. Be kind when people are kind to you… Laugh when a joke is told… Share more of your likes and dislikes… A honest person with nothing to hide will never have any problems with the Shieldmaiden of Rohan.”

 

                              *                   *                *

The Hall of Conferences was bigger than any of the first years had imagined. They stared around the place in awe as they trooped in for the Entrance Ceremony and could hardly believe their eyes. It was a huge space filled with benches on either side of it, leaving a long corridor in between that lead to a higher stage at the front of the room. Up there was a long table with many chairs and the students assumed that the teachers would be sitting there.

The first years, cheered on by the other students, were all led to the very front where they sat down facing the large table. They stared around nervously at the whole school sitting behind them but tried to hide their fears as well as they could.

Éowyn and Tauriel had found seats right next to Eydís and Aendulas, who were talking about dwarf music, much to everyone’s surprise. Aendulas was naming her so called “favourite groups” and Eydís was responding with nods and exclamations.

“It must be exciting for Eydís.” Tauriel whispered to Éowyn. “Dwarf music hurts normal people’s ears… to find out that Aendulas actually likes it must be a wonderful feeling.”

Éowyn laughed.

“And I thought our music was the rowdiest.” She added.

Behind them, the row of second years was talking excitedly. Boromir and Aragorn were speaking merrily about the rugby season and planning tactics for the new game together.

“It will be hard beating the Mordor Academy.” Boromir was saying. “I mean… orcs are ruthless and just charge through everyone.”

“Nay, we can take them.” Aragorn grinned. “We should watch out for the Uruks of Isengard, though… they are quite a nasty bunch… and much smarter than the Mordors.”

“It’s the Nazgûl that worry me…” Boromir sighed. “We have lost to them every single time… I do not think Rivendell has ever won them… Of all the schools, they are the most powerful.”

Éomer suddenly spoke up, making everyone turn towards him.

“Those schools stick to their own kind.” He muttered. “High School Rivendell consists of so many races hating on each other that we cannot create a solid winning team… Back home in Edoras…”

But Aragorn interrupted him, angrily.

“Éomer! How can you speak so lightly about Rivendell? Is mixing races a bad thing for you? I think Elrond’s tolerance is just what we need to make our world stronger…”

Háma, from the first year row, turned around.

“I agree with Éomer on one thing.” He said. “Our Edoras team is truly consistent because we all treat each other on a friendly way… We are like kin to each other… I would have trouble seeing you as kin, Aragorn… or Boromir…”

Éowyn turned around as well.

“You are so mindless, all of you. You confuse ‘team’ with country, and it does not always have to be so…” She smiled slyly at Háma. “The consistency of the Rivendell team lays entirely in your hands… you have the choice of seeing yourself as a group of Rohirrics and Gondorrians or seeing yourself as the Rivendell team. Your choice.”

Gimli clapped from the row below.  
“Hear hear!”

“Some folks were not meant to be friendly together…” Háma contradicted. “How can we people of Rohan be friendly to an overpowering country that wants naught but to control us?”

Aendulas gave a sarcastic laugh and stood up, facing Háma.

“Overpowering? Controlling? Rohan is not even a country to begin with! It belongs to Gondor! It used to be a part of Gondor!”

At that point everyone stood up and started exclaiming their own opinions loudly at each other and it took some sharp words from Lindir, in the third year row to calm them down.

“Settle down everyone!” He exclaimed in the common tongue. “This is a school, not the Battle of the Five Armies.”

Reluctantly, the first and second years all sat down. They were already more calm, but Aendulas and Háma were eyeing each other viciously. But in a few moments everyone was distracted as the doors at the end of the hall opened and Lord Elrond walked in, followed closely by the Lady Galadriel and Mithrandir. They settled down at the long table in front of the students while all the other teachers streamed in and took theirs seats eventually next to them. Elrond, of course, sat in the very centre with Galadriel and Mithrandir at his right and Celeborn at his left. He smiled at the hall filled with students and waited for the other teachers to sit down at the table. When they had done so, he tapped a small palantír in front of him slightly and it lit up. The tapping sound was magnified around the hall and everyone was amazed as they could now hear his words clearly.

“Students of High School Rivendell, old and new… Welcome.” He said in his deep but clear voice. He waited with a smile as the applause died down and then continued. “Welcome to yet another year at this institution, where every single being is welcome to share in or knowledge.” Aragorn stared at Éomer, eyebrows raised. “Now, before anything, I shall go over the school rules so that they remain forever clear to all of you.” His gaze turned to the second years and Aragorn looked away. Elrond then grabbed the palantír in front of him, fiddled with it and a square projection appeared on the wall behind him, making the students gape in awe. The rules were written in the square of light in both Sindarin and the Common tongue and Elrond proceeded in reading them out loud just as the first years stared at the list in front of them, not paying attention to his words, but looking at each other laughing.

 

  *          All students have to remain respectful to other students no matter their ethnicity.
  *          All students have the right to participate in any class or activity they choose, no matter where they come from.
  *          All students must respect their teachers, Guiders and older students at all times.
  *          All students are obliged to walk calmly through the corridors avoiding loud noises at all times.
  *          All students will sleep only in the rooms that were given to them.
  *          All students must respect the evening curfew.
  *          Illegal substances such as mushrooms, pipe weed and spirits are completely banned of the school premises.
  *          First and Second Year students are only allowed to leave the school premises in the weekends and in the company of at least one other student. Older students may leave as they wish respecting the curfew.



 

The list was long and Elrond explained every point as if it was not clear enough. The older students smiled, wondering if the first years were taking the list too seriously… everyone broke those rules once in a while.

“The illegal substances point is so not true.” Éowyn whispered to Tauriel. “My brother told me that they sometimes hold dorm parties.”

Tauriel gasped.

“Do they not get caught?”

“Only sometimes. But their punishment is always light.”

Aendulas turned towards them, looking solemn.

“Boromir told us most illegal substances are provided by the Halflings.” She whispered. “But the elves also possess a few… which is ironic, considering they seem like the superior folk or something.”

“Maybe they do that on a perfect way as well…” Éowyn whispered back, with a snort. They giggled.

“Dwarves also manage to bring in pipe weed…” Eydís added. “Back home, my cousins Fíli and Kíli are quite the handful… No wonder their uncle has decided to send them here next year.”

“To be under the watchful eyes of the elves?” Tauriel snorted. “Lord Elrond will be up their backside these four years…”

“I would like to see him try… sometimes it’s complicated even for Thorin to control them… they are truly some rascals…” Eydís muttered. “Gimli should know… he has been assigned to watch them!”

Gimli turned towards them.

“I am taking a Fíli-Kíli break this school year… Do not mention them. They do not exist until I return to Erebor.”

They all giggled and this time many annoyed elven students looked at them. They gulped and stared back at Elrond, who was now glancing at some elves carrying crates in the hall.

“As I was saying… This year we have some innovative devices that will help you with your studies.”

The students looked at each other, surprised… what was Elrond talking about?

“Palantír technology has grown very far indeed and some enterprises have made objects and machinery that have helped the different peoples of Middle Earth communicate on a faster level and even amuse themselves. I trust many of you know the gamestones the dwarves developed in Erebor…” He paused as many students mumbled and nodded in agreement. “… or the advanced Personal Palantírs that some of the elven students have, which allow them to communicate with their kin and seek information all over Middle Earth without the risk of being intercepted by… uh… unwanted sources…” Again many of the students nodded, even though some looked confused. Elrond smiled as the elves placed the crates on the large table and looked around the hall. “We have developed a smaller version of these Personal Palantírs called Smart Palantírs. They are no bigger than the palm of your hand and they have been made by elven and dwarven craftsmen, very talented indeed.” He picked up one of the elements of the crate and showed it around the hall. It was a flat device which lighted up as he placed his fingers on it. It seemed very light and fragile indeed. “This Smart Palantír will help you communicate with your fellow students even when they are far away and you can seek up any information you like on it. There is one in here for each of you. I must insist, though, as I make a new rule, that you may not use these in class and certainly not during an exam. Also, I want to remind you that there are many library books that do not wish to be ignored once you fall infatuated by your new devices.” The students laughed. “So, without further ado, these Smart Palantírs shall now be handed out to you. Enjoy.”

And with that, the elves carried the crates around the room, handing out one of those strange devices to each student. They were all the same, the outer carcass coloured just like a rock. The front was smooth and flat, like a mirror or a frozen lake. The students were very surprised indeed when they touched that part and it lit up, some letters appearing on it, asking to introduce a password so that it would become their personal Smart Palantír. Luckily, the elves also handed out a bundle of parchment to each student, explaining how to use the device so that no one would be utterly confused.

Elrond spoke some more about the school but everyone was quite busy exploring the features of their new surprises so he merely smiled and told them the conference was over. There was a huge scuttle as everyone got up at once and left for the door, talking excitedly and grasping their new devices as if anxious that someone would take them.

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                                            *                  *                    *

 

The entrance ceremony was over… the students could now do as they pleased until the end of the day as the classes started the following day. But some of the teachers had set up tables in the courtyard with materials and books for their classes so that the students could inform themselves and choose wisely.

“First and second years are not allowed to choose their classes…” Boromir explained as the group walked outside. “But this gives us a chance to see what they are about and meet our teachers.”

Háma nodded and looked around.

“Yet Éomer told me we could choose some things…”

“That is true…” Aragorn pointed at the group of tables perched together at the far end of the courtyard. “We have a few hours in our timetable where the classes are not set. We can then choose between those subjects over there.”

Háma squinted his eyes.

“Woodshop… Agriculture… Sewing?”

“Sewing.” Éowyn muttered. “Sounds thrilling.”

“I would totally choose that.” Aendulas smiled. “It would give me an excuse to alter my school uniform…” She shuddered.

“If I would try that… I’d sew the cloth into my skin and never be free again.” Eydís laughed. “Woodshop for me.”

“And me.” Éowyn added.

Éomer sighed deeply and turned towards her.

“Why?” He asked. “Why always?”

“What is it to you?” She asked back.

Boromir intervened calmly, with a smile.  
“Come now, Éomer… She can choose what pleases her most… You cannot make her be what she is not.”

Éomer was about to answer back but somehow he held his tongue, not wanting to argue with his friends. The truth was, he felt annoyed at Boromir’s remark… as if he knew Éowyn better… Éomer felt he knew her more than anyone in this world and he was also certain that she would choose woodshop over anything else… But he felt something inside him that he did not understand… Éowyn was so natural, and likeable… Boromir and Aragorn seemed to have warmed up to her so fast… much faster than they had warmed up to him last year… and he had worked so hard to become their friend… that lack of effort from Éowyn’s part hindered him the most. But that was not something he could simply say there in front of everyone…

Suddenly Aendulas gave a high-pitched squeal and pointed at one of the tables in the courtyard.

“The handsome guard of Lórien that joined us after we passed through…” She hissed.

Aragorn laughed, for he noticed that all women of the race of men admired elves very much for their beauty.

“That’s Haldir, our drama teacher.” He smiled, as they turned to him in interest.

“He looks as if he just stepped oud of Hyves and Tides…” Aendulas smiled vaguely. “I shall despair in his classes…”

Everyone laughed except Boromir, who snorted.

“And despair you will… rumour has that his preferences lay in men…”

Aendulas sighed deeply as the rest tittered, looking at her.

“So lay the preferences of all the good ones…” She mumbled. “Which is lovely for all men on this earth but such a pain for us women…”

Tauriel shook her arm.

“Come now, Aendulas… Is there no man for you who has an interest in women?”

Aendulas shook her head dramatically and lay an arm over her forehead.

“Alas, there is not.” She stood still in the middle of the courtyard. “I will die an old maiden embracing my one and true love: the banner of Gondor.”

Everyone burst out laughing and Boromir cried:

“I am very sure you will! You are a white tree hugger!!”

Aendulas turned around to him and winked.

“You can take the maiden out of Gondor but you cannot take Gondor out of the maiden.”

Everyone laughed again and Boromir shook his head with a smile. Aragorn could have sworn that he had looked at her fondly.

They made their first stop at Gandalf’s table, who was laughing with a bunch of Halflings. He looked up as they arrived.

“Ahh.” He smiled. “All those I took from Rohan and Gondor… and a few more… what a lovely mix…” His eyes twinkled. “Aren’t you boys glad we have more maidens now?” He winked at them.

Boromir, Aragorn and Éomer looked away smiling and Gimli grinned.

Faramir stepped forward with a smile.

“I am really glad you’ll be teaching us, Mithrandir. The Common Tongue and its literature is a fascinating subject.”

Gandalf smiled.

“My dear Faramir.” He said. “You master it perfectly… Not a hint of an accent…” He paused. “Well of course, elves and Gondorrians do not have much of an accent when it comes to the Common Tongue… Rohan, though, is quite a different story…”

Everyone laughed as Éomer, Éowyn and Háma turned red.

“Now now…” Gandalf said, fondly. “Their rugby is amazing… and so is their food… and their songs bring tears to my eyes…”

“…and our hair is the sun and our eyes are the mountains…” Háma added, extending his arms.

“What?” Éomer muttered.

“What?” Háma looked away, innocent.

“Save it for drama class…” Gandalf smiled. “Now move along, there are other students who wish to see me…” He grinned at them and winked once more.

The group moved away towards the next table, where they could not even see who it was due to the long queue in front of it. Boromir laughed.

“Bilbo Baggins, geography teacher… everyone loves him, although he may laugh at you in your face right in the middle of a class… I guess that’s part of his charm. Some of the students see him as a cult to follow…” He laughed. “Let us move along to the next table. That’s Radagast, our biology teacher… he’s weird.”

They passed Elrond’s table, who taught mathematics and physics; Balin, who taught history; Celeborn, who taught Sindarin, Angelica Baggins, Bilbo’s cousin, who taught art and music, and as they reached the tables at the far end, they saw Théoden, horse riding teacher, accompanied by Glorfindel, the Lacrosse coach and Thorin Oakenshield, who had woodshop and also taught dwarf-boxing to his kin.

“So many subjects…” Éowyn muttered. Théoden waved at them from his table and she smiled back, awkwardly. “I may excel at horse-riding, but I will have trouble with most of the other subjects…”

“You seem bright enough.” Tauriel smiled. “Do not worry before you have to…”

“Nay.” Aendulas added. “It is useless and time-consuming. Just study diligently when you have to and everything will fall into place.”

Eydís shot an amused look at Éowyn and Tauriel, who smiled back. Aendulas could speak so archaically sometimes…

“We have seen most of the tables.” Boromir said, raising his voice. “You have met most of your teachers and the rest you will meet this week in class. I say we call it a day and take a walk through Rivendell, maybe go to the Pub…”

Éowyn looked up, excited just as Tauriel looked confused. Aendulas sighed.

“Boromir, we are not going to a greasy hole in the ground with ale all over the floor, seats and tables…”

“I am confused.” Said Tauriel. “Surely we elves do not run such places?”

“It is not run by elves…” Aragorn explained, amused. “The owner is from Rohan…”

“That’s the place you told me about this summer…” Éowyn smiled at her brother, forgetting all anger from before. “There was a party and they had to carry you home…”

“Éowyn!!!”

Everyone laughed as Éomer looked embarrassed.

“Well.” Gimli said. “Any place with ale all over sounds good to me. All of this elvish frivolity is numbing my senses… it will be good for me to have a break…”

Boromir looked at him.

“You seem old enough master dwarf…” He said. As Gimli looked at him questioningly, he explained. “One must be a man, not a lad, to order ale in that pub… luckily the owner has never caught us…”

“I see…” Gimli grinned. “Well I am no lad in drinking.”

“We shall see about that.” Boromir laughed. He looked at the maidens. “Are you coming?”

Aendulas shook her head.

“Not if I had a whole elvish lifetime in front of me with a one way trip to Valinor.” She answered. “Bending the rules is not my thing… Neither is ale…”

Éowyn sighed, knowing none of them would go. She also did not want to go to the pub alone with the lads, for she genuinely liked her new friends. She turned towards them.

“Let us take a walk and explore Rivendell.” She smiled. Suddenly she caught sight of Faramir, sighing near a tree. “Do you want to come with us?”

He looked at her as if she were foolish, raising an eyebrow before answering arrogantly.

“I have a book.”

“I am very happy for you.” Éowyn answered, and then turned back to the others who were walking away.

Háma stayed behind, looking at Faramir, who seemed oddly flustered.

“Lad…” He muttered. “What did I say about being yourself?”

“I am being myself!” Faramir protested. “I always tell people that I have a book when they invite me to participate in a social event.”

Háma sighed.

“Well, I’m going to the pub. Come with me, they have crossed the gates already and I, as a first year, should not be seen leaving the premises alone…”

Faramir sighed and followed him, apparently reluctant. As they walked side by side, Háma noticed a frown on his face.

“What bothers you, _fréond_?” He asked, grinning. “Éowyn again?”

Faramir nodded.

“That lack of respect…” He shuddered. “Asking me to come with them just to laugh at me when I decline…”

Háma shook his head.

“That action of hers, I believe, was quite genuine… She’s not mean and petty… She’s quite straightforward, as I already told you… So stop being bothered by her. She was just being nice.”

Suddenly Faramir’s frown vanished and he looked at Háma meekly.

“I know…” He said. “By Valar, I understand her brother’s despair… she seems so frail and in need of protection… and then she opens her mouth and you suddenly need an army to defend yourself against her sharp words… Not an easy younger sister to handle…”

Háma laughed.

“When she finds a man to love… he will have to be strong… and sensible… and quite respectful towards her…” He smiled.

“… and brave.” Faramir added. “Someone who does not get the idea of female perception from Hyves and Tides…”

He and Háma laughed as they crossed the gates together into Rivendell.

 

                                                                                                                                                                                *                *                 *

 

Arwen sighed as she threw herself down on her bed dramatically. She then groaned deeply, trying to get the attention of her roommate, who did not look up.

“Saeltheria!” She protested at last and her friend turned around, her silver hair swaying in the movement.

“What is it now.” She mumbled, her grey eyes narrowing slowly.

“Can you not see I am in anguish?” Arwen cried.

“Why are you in anguish?” Saeltheria sighed.

“Aragorn has gone to the pub with Boromir and the other one…” Arwen wailed. “Fig told me… He was present when they were speaking… AND HE DID NOT EVEN COME LOOKING FOR ME!!!”

Saeltheria sighed again and stared at Arwen.

“Do not make such a huge fuss… Who could he like but you?” She sneered. “Besides… Jealousy is silly in this case… He did not bring any maidens with him, did he?”

Arwen scowled.

“Well, they almost came… those stupid first year maidens… that tacky She-Elf from Mirkwood and that dwarf whose beard is longer than her legs or something… and that flat-chested Gondorian maiden who thinks she stands above the rest… not to mention that Rohirric “ _hlæfdige_ ” who looks at Aragorn – my Aragorn – as if he were hers…” Arwen looked at Saeltheria. “I have to do something! I must erase their existence!”

Saeltheria laughed.

“You are so exaggerated.” She smiled. “Why not do what you do best and simply crush them? If they sit down at your table, send them away… if they come for try-outs, tease them away… if they stand up to you, step on them even harder… you control every maiden in this school… I do not think you’ll have trouble with these four…”

Arwen sat up, suddenly smiling.

“Yes… yes, you are right… of course… How could I have been so foolish… I can’t even think straight… But you are so right. I am Arwen Undomiel, captain of the Leading Maidens and I excel at all of my subjects… They will not get in my way.”

 

She sneered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter coming soon: "Go, Rivendell!" (let's learn some more about the sports at HSR)... will Arwen crush the first year maidens? who will be the second year rugby captain? will Aendulas bend the rules? is Bilbo really such an /%&()=)/(&%&$%$·!··$%&/ in class?
> 
> Stay tuned!


	5. Go, Rivendell!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First and Second years start getting closer and we get to meet their teachers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for taking such a long time between uploads, it takes a while to write~ I shall do my best to write more often, though. HSR still has a long way to go.
> 
> I want to thank everyone who keeps following the uploads, you are great. I am also grateful, as always, to my friend who provides the best feedback and fangirls with me over certain HSR situations. I hope she starts providing illustrations for this soon *wink wink*.
> 
> Rohirric in this chapter: ungewene (not likely; although here I personally translate it as bullsh*t), Gōde Niht (Good night.) and Fréond (friend).
> 
> Have a great back-to-school!

** Chapter Five **

** Go, Rivendell! **

_Why do I shiver when it is not even cold? Why do I tremble when I do not fear the dark? For many years I have understood every single thing about myself but right now I cannot… This is strange, so far away from my usual strings of thoughts that I do not know how to handle it, for nothing in my years of study has prepared me for this. I know it may be surprising, as Mithrandir always says what he should not… But even so, I know nothing, whatsoever, in order to confront what I fear right now._

 

Faramir, a mug of tea between his hands, stared at his brother as he was laughing with Aragorn and Éomer. He and Háma had followed them to the pub and sat down at their table, but there was no sight of ale as the barman had been well warned about the students by Elrond. Háma was sipping his tea happily, though, while joining in the conversation of the second years who, as usual, were talking about the upcoming rugby season.

“Damrod gets to choose class captains.” Aragorn sighed. “He will make you the captain of the second year for sure.”

“Do not be so hasty, Strider.” Boromir laughed. “Damrod and I are friends and it might be seen as favouritism…”

“That is… _ungewene_ …” Éomer remarked. “He will choose the best player… and the one with best leadership.”

Faramir sighed deeply into his tea and Boromir laughed, looking at him fondly.

“Oh brother…” He said. “I really do feel sorry for you… Having to listen to our endless rugby talk…” He smiled. “Tell me, now… what are your first impressions of the school and your classmates?”

Faramir looked up, knowing his brother was making an effort so that he would feel more at ease, and somehow that comforted him. He stirred his tea quietly, thinking.

“I believe it is a very good institution… the teachers seem really qualified and the lessons all sound interesting.” He paused briefly, adding some cane sugar to his cup. “I also like the dorms, they are spacy and bright. The food seems alright as well.”

Háma nodded as he spoke.

“I have not yet seen the game fields but I’m very sure I will like them.” He added. “And Faramir is right about the rooms… Spacy and bright.”

Aragorn and Boromir shared a smile, remembering their first impressions, but Éomer sighed, for he had had some trouble fitting in when he had first arrived. Luckily, now he felt quite at home there.

“I’m glad Faramir is my roommate.” Háma said happily. “I don’t usually speak to people of Gondor but he actually learned a little Rohirric…”

The others laughed and Faramir smiled vaguely. Boromir sighed.

“Is there a language in Middle Earth you do not speak, little brother?” He asked. “I can barely manage the common tongue and we practically speak it back home…”

They all laughed.

Suddenly Gimli, who had left for the bathroom, reappeared, a sly grin on his face. He sat down innocnetly yet smugly.

“What is it?” Éomer asked.

Gimli snorted with laughter.

“That bathroom is so elvish…” He muttered. “Even for a pub… I just could not help laughing at the idea of losening my bowels in a room full of scented flowers.”

The others roared with laughter and even Faramir could not hide a brought grin. Háma felt glad that some of his advice had stuck with him.

Boromir, wiping away his tears, patted Gimli on the back.

“I like you, master dwarf.” He said, happily. “Why don’t you come for rugby tryouts this week?”

Gimli laughed and took a sip of his drink.

“Whilst some of my kin prefer the sport of men, I stand by dwarf boxing. Thorin Oakenshield is our coach and I promised I would dedicate my time to that… But it was kind of you to offer, Boromir.”

Boromir nodded in acknowledgement and poured more hot cocoa in his mug. The barman had slammed a big jar of it on the table after warning them thoroughly never to ask for ale again whilst he remained alive.

“I understand.” He said. “I would be glad with some dwarf strenght on the team, though. We lack consistancy.”

Aragorn snorted.

“Spoken like a true captain.” He laughed.

“Shut up, Strider.” Boromir muttered. “I never said I wanted to be captain again… I just happen to care about the team. You could be chosen as well as I…”

“Boromir!” Aragorn said, annoyed. “Why do you look guilty if you are not at fault? You deserve to be rugby captain… you were brilliant last year… Damrod would be a fool not to choose you…”

Boromir sighed, pushing away his mug and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Because my father wants me… no… expects me to be captain again and always…” He stared at Aragorn. “And the reasons are many, but you know as well as I that he fears my position and his own in Gondorian politics…” He looked away. “You are a threat to him.”

Éomer and Háma shared a look of doubt between them just as Faramir held a strong gaze upon his brother. Aragorn, on the other hand, seemed relaxed and carefree.

“Come now… We all know Gandalf is not what he used to be… Him saying I belong on the throne of Gondor does not mean much to me or to your father.” He slapped Boromir on the arm. “Friend. Do not worry about this… I was raised by Elrond and to your eyes, I should be but another elf.”

Boromir gave a snort of laughter and soon the mood had brightened again. Éomer, Faramir and Háma all sighed and Gimli sipped his cocoa grinning, while the chocolate dripped down his beard.

“You do not look like an elf, Strider.” Boromir guffawed and ruffled Aragorn’s hair. He also smiled.

“You do not look like a man of Gondor with such fair hair… But you still defend it with all your heart.”

Faramir suddenly looked up.

“As many of the race of Númenor descend from bearers of Sindar blood, the colour of our hair may vari…”

But then Boromir covered his brother’s mouth with his hand.

“Do not start.”

 

 

*                *                 *

 

Whilst the lads had gone to the Rohirric pub, the maidens had found a quiet elven balcony where cold drinks were served in every taste and colour. From there you could see almost the whole of Rivendell as it was situated right above one of the main waterfalls. Its name was carved right above the entrance: *Elixir of Flowers*, and Éowyn had refused to enter when she had read that.

“Why can’t we go to the pub?” She had exclaimed, looking at the sign with dread.

“Because I cannot tolerate such a place.” Aendulas had answered and in the end, Éowyn had given in. She secretly did not regret it, though, when she sat next to the waterfall, a soft watery breeze in her face, sipping an elixir of lemon. It felt comfortably peaceful.

Eydís felt amused at the elvish balcony and looked over the edge with glee, as if enjoying every corner of that unknown place. It was white, bright and crystal clear, the very opposite of her own dwellings.

“Elves are truly fascinating creatures.” She said, examining the bannisters. “So pure and perfect and clean…” She laughed, glancing at Tauriel, who had a bemused look on her face. “You would faint if you ever saw Erebor…”

Tauriel laughed and took a sip of her drink.

“Do not compare me with the elves of Rivendell… I am Silvan, forget it not.”

Éowyn patted Tauriel on the back.

“I do not even know the different kinds of elves… nor do I care… You are fun to be with, Tauriel!”

“True.” Aendulas added, joining them at the bannister. The four of them stared down at the waterfall for a while and smiled. The roaring noise of the silver blue water being cast miles below into the river was a surprisingly relaxing sound.

“That Gondorian lad… Faramir… he would be indignant at you for not knowing the different kinds of elves.” Eydís said suddenly, turning to Éowyn. “I look forward to more open war at the table during mealtimes.”

Tauriel and Aendulas laughed but the young Rohirric maiden narrowed her eyes in anger.

“How can anyone be so big headed?” She said, through clenched teeth.

Aendulas sighed, leaving her empty glass on the table behind them.

“He is usually so quiet…” She said. “Never really joined in our games when we were young… except when it came to kings and magicians… he always tried to be so lordly, like the kings of old… and my, he studied so much that we worried everytime he sat in the shade with a book. Somehow, Mithrandir’s lessons made a deep impact on him. I wonder why he lashed out at you, though… It is truly surprising…”

Éowyn looked at her and sighed as well.

“A person like that would have no patience with a wild shieldmaiden of Rohan… but maybe I did deserve those harsh words he said to me… I am exactly what he expected a Rohirric maiden to be, after all. I’m loud, I act like a lad, I play rugby… I’m crystal clear, easy to read.”

Tauriel smiled a little.

“I think simply that you’re Éowyn and that no one can expect you to be anything unless they know you better. At least… none of us first years really know each other yet… maybe one day you and Faramir can be friendly to one another…”

Éowyn laughed and put her drink aside as well.  
“I seriously doubt that.”

 

 

*                *                 *

 

Gandalf walked slowly through the corridor that led to his study, admiring as always the freshness of the carved walls. He had seen many different dwellings in his lifetimes and much of them – certainly the dwarves’ – were ever as magnificent. But there was something about elvish architecture that differed from the others. It was lighter, softer and more ethereal than most, and many of the designs had been based on nature, blending the dwellings with the trees. In a way, it reminded Gandalf of Hobbiton, where the hobbits used the hills to make their homes and their roofs were covered with grass. Of all places in Middle Earth, Gandalf felt most comfortable with either hobbits or elves. There was nothing better than resting on a porch in the sunshine, a pint of ale in one hand and his pipe in another, while his hosts played some music in front of him. He sighed, lost in happy memories.

All of the teachers’ studies were in that corridor and he moved along the various signs on the doors, wondering if they had relocated him. But no, he was still at the very end, right next to Elrond’s and right in front of Galadriel. He smiled and opened his door with the key they had given him, wondering if his things had already been brought up by Elrond’s guard. Probably they had been, as the young elves working for Elrond were quite diligent.

Once inside he laughed, for his study companion was – as always – his good friend Radagast. He recognised him by his backside bulging out from under one of the desks and a faint muttering coming from below.

“My old friend.” He chuckled. “What on Earth are you doing down there in such a strange posture?”

Radagast had not heard him enter and knocked his head to the table, giving a loud yelp. Massaging his scalp with both hands, he looked annoyed at the wizard but then recognized him and smiled.

“Gandalf!” He stood up and patted him on the shoulder. “Do not scare me like that!”

“I’m dreadfully sorry.” Gandalf smiled and headed over towards the kettle they had in the study. “What were you doing under there anyway?”

Radagast sighed and looked at the desk, now slightly out of position.

“There was a spider.” He muttered. “Poor little thing, all alone under the table…”

Gandalf shuddered.

“Poor little thing indeed.” He grimaced. “I thought you did not care much for spiders…”

“Oh but I do…” Radagast smiled at the dark corner under the desk, lovingly. “I love all living things that are not evil… But I obviously do not care for those big crawling creatures in Mirkwood.”

“Do not let Elrond hear you… He might tell Thranduil that you called him a big crawling creature…” Gandalf chuckled.

“Oh come on! You know quite well I meant the spiders…” Radagast bent down again and dived under the desk. “Come out, dear… This room is quite big, come and see…”

Gandalf sighed and walked towards the door.

“While you play with your new friend, I shall take a walk or something…” He muttered and heard Radagast laugh.

“I hope you have a nice smoke.”

“He knows me too well.” Gandalf thought, as he shut the door behind him with a smile. But when he looked up, he saw a sight in front of him that always let him – and everyone else – dazzled. Her eyes were blue as the ocean itself; her skin pale and soft, as if it were made by the finest silk; her hair golden and wavy, shining in the sunlight that came through the windows in the corridor. Gandalf could not do anything but blink and take a slight step backwards, overwhelmed – as always – by her powerful beauty.

“Does it take that long, Mithrandir, to order your thoughts and greet me?” She said in her husky voice, her face remaining expressionless. But Gandalf detected a hint of a smile in her eyes and laughed a little.

“Forgive me, Lady Galadriel. Seeing the sun after emerging from a dark cave can be quite overwhelming.”

“Do not compare me with the Sun, Gandalf.” She whispered, piercing right through him with her strong eyes. “You know what I am capable of… Why is it that you see so much light when there is much more dark right in front of your eyes?”

He smiled.

“Because I can be slightly superficial.” He said. “Now tell me, how was your summer?”

They walked through the arch that communicated with the courtyard and dodged a few scattered first years who were shouting excitedly at each other. Gandalf could not help but smile.

“It has been dull.” She confessed, as they crossed the courtyard slowly. “You know we always have to host my son in law.” She frowned, looking at Elrond’s study behind him. “Of course, the summer festivals are fun for the younger but you understand what it is to have seen too many, do you not?”

Gandalf sighed.

“I’m afraid I do not, my lady…” He said, tightening the grip around his staff in order to cross into the grounds. He smiled, as they passed the lacrosse fields; many young elves were already playing. “I enjoy every day of my life, every festival, every moment. Not one day is the same for me… I can always learn something new, meet someone else or fight a different foe… Life, however long, always remains exciting if you see it that way…”

Galadriel sighed and looked at him with a smile.

“Ever you appear modest, Mithrandir, like a happy Halfling trimming his hedge… You have never desired power; all that ever mattered to you was the happiness and comfort of the people around you, and yourself. There is much I can still learn, but most of it comes from you.”

Gandalf looked down, suddenly flushing. He tried to hide it as well as he could, but Galadriel had already seen. She did not speak about it, though, and merely smiled.

“I believe you could teach the world almost all there is to know, my lady.” He muttered. “You are truly the wisest and fairest of all beings…”

“You flatter me, Mithrandir.” Galadriel laughed. “And after so many years, you are the only one who still does so from time to time.”

“Come now, my lady, I am very sure Celeborn flatters you constantly…” Gandalf laughed, but her face grew serious.

“We are bound forever.” She said. “Elves only mate once, as you know. There’s no need for him to flatter me.” Suddenly she turned around sharply and smiled at Gandalf. “I have to meet Elrond and the school board in the Assembly Hall.” She said. “We shall meet again soon.”

And suddenly she was gone, making Gandalf wonder what kind of an illusionist she really was. He sighed, remaining pensive over her words.

“If I were mated to someone for life, that would not be a reason to stop treating them as when we first met.” He muttered. Yet elves were of a different kind and even though he had spent many lifetimes with them, he knew that he would never be able to completely understand them.

 

*                *                 *

The four maidens had been staring peacefully at the waterfall while the day dimmed. Lunchtime had long passed and they had eaten something there – a luxury allowed only on the first day back – but supper was served at school so they would soon have to head back. As the sky turned a shade of scarlet, Aendulas looked up and smiled.

“I shall come here and paint.” She said. “This is not a Gondorian sunset but it will do…”

Éowyn let out a snort of laughter.

“A sunset is a sunset.” She said. “But I enjoyed watching them from the Golden Hall as well…” She sighed in confession.

It was quiet at that hour of the day when they finally headed towards the school, and the sun shone calidly between the roof of leaves that the trees made above them. They were about to cross the gate when Éowyn felt a blow to her arm. She turned around and saw her brother, smiling wryly. Behind him came the other lads.

“Why would you hit me?” Éowyn frowned and punched Éomer twice as hard in the shoulder. He doubled up and gasped for air as Boromir, Aragorn and Háma laughed.

“Do not mess with Éowyn.” Boromir grinned, and patted her on the back. Then, he turned to Aendulas. “Where have you been, you have leaves in your hair…” He walked towards her and removed a few from her braids.

“Boromir!” Aendulas gave a shout. “Careful with my hair… It takes hours to make it look good in the morning…” She suddenly looked around, terrified. “Or well… not hours… My hair is quite naturally beautiful and…”

“We know, we know.” Boromir ruffled her hair, and she pushed him away.

“Stop!”

Aragorn came up to them with a grin.

“Whenever you two old wedded people have had enough… we can go to supper.”

Éowyn laughed at the joke and Aragorn winked at her, making her feel weak at the knees. She stared at him, as he crossed the gates with Háma and her brother, wondering what secrets he carried behind his youthful smile. Éowyn stumbled over a rock in her thoughts and looked up, embarassed, but Aragorn was already out of sight.

“Do you need me to be gallant?” Came a voice behind her. She turned around seeing Faramir standing there. He did not look at her, but merely stared at the book he had in his hands. Éowyn shot him an incredulous look and got up by herself, heading towards the door.

“Women of my country have no need for gallantry.” She said. “We fend very well on our own.” And with that she crossed the gates.

Faramir stared after her with a disgruntled look on his face.

“Be yourself.” He muttered. “Well that seems to work…”

The last light of the day soon engulfed the courtyard and the young lad was embezzled by its beauty. The last summer light was fading into an orange autumn glow and the elven valley seemed to bathe in it. Faramir took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the place; there were so many colours, all standing out yet fading into each other as the leaves of the trees around him moved in the soft breeze that came in the evening. He smiled softly to himself, wondering what Aendulas would think if she were to read his thoughts. She would probably have at least ten arguments ready in order to defend Minas Tirith’s beauty. But Faramir had always preferred Ithilien to the city and felt glad to move around in a place that was not all grey and white.

A shout from one of the Guider elves made him look up and he saw Lindir waving at him. Faramir stared at him, a little bit annoyed. What did the elf want? His eyesight was not very good in long distances and the only reason he was sure that the elf was waving at him was because there was not another soul nearby.

“Do I wave back?” He asked himself, squinting in the elf’s direction. In the end, he heaved a great sigh and started walking towards him. When he had reached the part of the courtyard where the elf stood, Faramir tilted his head.

“Yes?” He asked, politely.

Lindir frowned upon him from his higher stature.

“Everyone is in the dining hall having supper. Make haste.” And with that he went through the oaken doors that led inside the building.

Faramir stood still, looking at the elf disappear through them, slightly disgruntled. Was that the way he was going to be treated around here? As if he were nothing but a mere child?

Inside the dining hall, a lot of moving tables were heard, for Boromir, Aragorn, Éomer and Gimli were trying to join two or three.

“That way we can all be together.” Aragorn said happily to the table where Arwen was sitting with her brothers and Saeltheria. Melpomaen had joined them as well.

Arwen smiled sweetly at Aragorn and then turned around to Saeltheria.

“Why could he not simply leave the others and sit with us?” She muttered, disgruntled.

“Silvan alert on the left.” Saeltheria pointed at Tauriel who sat down beside Gimli and Eydís.

“Let her be for now.” Arwen sneered slightly. “I have a plan so that she will not come near us again…”

Saeltheria turned to Arwen, an eyebrow risen.

“What kind of plan?” She whispered.

Arwen snorted.

“You shall see.”

Meanwhile, Éowyn had taken a seat next to Aragorn, quite by accident as she preferred to avoid encounters like these. Her hand trembled as she reached out across to the bread, which lay in front of him. He turned around quite suddenly and moved the platter towards her with a smile. Éowyn tried to thank him but choked upon the words and Eydís thumped her on the back. The young shieldmaiden went even redder in the face as she already was because of the lack of air. Tears in her eyes from coughing, she turned towards her right, where Aragorn could not catch a sight of her and shot a look of panic towards Aendulas, who sat across next to Boromir.

“Well then.” Aendulas looked around the table, trying to find something to talk about in order to draw the attention away from Éowyn. She looked at the platter of cabbage leaves and piped up. “Did you know most cabbages come from Hobbiton?”

Everyone stared at her, incredulous. Aendulas looked around, chin in the air, as if she had just stated the most important information ever. The other, though, remained motionless in a silence that could have been easily palpated.

“That… is fascinating.” Boromir mumbled in the end, and Aendulas smiled, triumphant.

“Enjoy your meal.” She sat down and dug in as if nothing had happened. Éowyn could not help but admire her royalattitude and smiled thankfully in her direction. Hopefully, she would have no more embarrassing situations like that with Aragorn…

But Éowyn was wrong, for her nightmare had done no more than begin…

Faramir came in and sat down at his brother’s other side, sighing deeply. Lindir had joined them moments before and nodded at him in approval. Faramir looked away, wondering what he had done to deserve so much attention from the elf.

“Now that we are seated like this, let me say a few words.” Lindir said across the table, looking serious. “There is no official rule against joining tables together and for tonight I am going to allow it, but I shall have to ask Lord Elrond’s permission for it in the morning and until I give you an answer, you are not to join the tables. Is that clear?”

The first and second years nodded quietly and then shot funny looks at each other.

“I told you it was a bad idea…” Boromir hissed at Aragorn from across the table. “Next time tell Arwen to leave her army of magical creatures and sit with us, if you want to be near her.”

As an answer, Aragorn threw a piece of bread at his friend’s head, making Lindir call for order. But everyone was laughing and in the end the Guider had to smile as well…

Arwen sat up straight, winking at Saeltheria. She cleared her throat and spoke up.

“Tauriel.” She said. The young elf looked up, startled at her name being called out. Arwen smiled her sweetest smile. “ You do dance, do you not?”

“I…” Tauriel looked completely taken aback. “ I guess…”

“I have been thinking… You Silvan elves have such exotic dances… we could use them with the Leading Maidens… why don’t you come to tryouts?” Arwen’s eyes twinkled.

Tauriel looked amazed and wondered if Elrond’s daughter wasn’t so bad after all. She smiled at her.

“I… would love to.” She smiled. “I love jumping and doing tricks, I shall come to the tryouts…”

“I shall be very glad to have you there.” Arwen winked at her and turned back to Saeltheria, a wry grin on her face.

“What are you doing?” Saeltheria hissed at her. “Is this your idea of keeping her away?”

“Wait and see…” Arwen had a hard time containing her laughter. “She will have a nasty surprise at tryouts.”

Tauriel, almost beside herself with amazement, beamed at the others.

“Me, trying out for the Leading Maidens…” She sighed. “I did not think they would let a Silvan elf join such a refined cult…”

Many snorts were heard around the table.

“Refined?”

“Cult?”

Tauriel laughed.

“Actually, yes…” She explained. “Activities like sports and the Leading Maidens are independent cults which Lord Elrond has nothing to say about… One can not simply join a team if the captain does not allow it. Also, everyone back home knows about the Leading Maidens from Rivendell… Would they not stare if I became one of them…”

Gimli let out a loud laugh.

“If I were to join the Leading Maidens, my fellow kinsman would stare at me in a very different way…” He roared with laughter. “I feel I cannot understand elves…”

Boromir poked him in the elbow.

“It would darken the sight awfully if you were to join them.” He laughed. “There’s a reason why the team has only chosen high ranked elves for years…”

Eydís looked up.

“Are they all female? I honestly cannot tell the difference yet…”

Everyone snorted with laughter at this.

“Well, they are not called Leading Maidens for nothing…” Aragorn smiled, stuffing some cabbage in his mouth and swallowing it. “But I can assure you, many young elven lads would like to join them…”

Gimli laughed so hard he banged his fist on the table, sending cups rolling over the floor. Lindir called for silence, annoyed.

“Speaking of young elven lads…” Tauriel squinted around the hall and caught sight of Legolas walking around with his dinner-tray. “LEGOLAS!” She bellowed across the tables. “COME SIT WITH US!”

Thranduil’s son looked up and started walking towards them, steadily. Gimli looked disgruntled.

“Oh no, not him… He’s such a nightmare…” He groaned. “Complaining because I played games until late, yet today he got up before dawn to stretch his limbs or something… It was a pretty disturbing sight to watch, that lad seems to have no bones in him whatsoever…” He looked at the others. “He can place his feet upon his shoulders and then walk with his hands…” He shuddered.

Legolas slammed his tray down beside him.

“At least I do not produce that ghastly sound you do when you are asleep…” He said, proudly. “When he is not up playing games, he snores louder than the morning gong…”

“One night! One night and you have already spoken about me as if you had to suffer me for an entire year!” Gimli waved a chicken-bone at him, menacingly.

“I am pretty certain it will be like this…” Legolas picked up his greens with elegance and munched quietly. “If only father would answer his palantír…”

“You heard Elrond…” Gimli sighed. “We are stuck like this for a year… At least… So you had better get used to my playing and my snoring, for that comes with me if you take me.”

Legolas pulled a face.

“I would not take you were you rolling in dwarvish gold… But we just have to hold out for a year… I hope I do not die while waiting…”

Eydís smiled.

“Worry not, elven lad… Gimli is a gentleman at heart. If you two become friends, he shall surely be more considerate…”

Legolas shuddered.

“Then I guess I shall have no consideration bestowed upon me… Me being friends with a dwarf lad? I do not see that happening.”

Gimli sank his knife in a piece of cheese and growled fiercely.

“Of course it shall not happen… For we have not the same soft hearts as our maiden friends… or at least, I have not…”

Éowyn looked up.

“I do not know what soft maiden hearts you are speaking about.” She scowled at him.

“Sister…” Éomer tried to hold her back but Éowyn shook his arm away.

“It depends on the person, or being.” She said, firmly. “That is probably why I can make friends with elves and you cannot… You are too headstrong.”

“Maybe.” Gimli said, swallowing his cheese. “I take it back then…” He liked the fiery maiden’s sudden outbursts. Faramir, on the other hand, sighed deeply, earning a scowl from her.

 

*                *                 *

Éowyn snuggled down in bed, covering herself with the sheets. Tauriel lay down on the other bed, checking her Smart Palantír.

“This thing is quite surprising.” She said, tapping the glass with her fingernail. “It has every feature a Palantír contains and even more… And it’s so light!”

Éowyn laughed, she had barely touched hers yet.

“I think this might become useful for many things… Looking up answers in the middle of tests, sharing thoughts about those we do not cherish…” She smiled maliciously.

Tauriel laughed.

“Maybe so.”

They heard the soft yet quick footsteps of Miss Baggins coming along through the corridor and they quickly blew out their candles before she came in. By now they knew she paraded the corridors quite too often and no student wanted to be caught out of bed. She was worse than a balrog, as Gandalf had said many times.

Meanwhile Faramir was tossing and turning in bed, fighting with the sheets which had tangled all around him. He was usually a very quiet sleeper, who barely moved and almost anything woke him up, just like the wood elves… yet the other night and this one, he could not stop turning. He let out a few curses until Háma lit a candle.

“What are you doing?”

Faramir stopped moving and his eyes fell upon the shadows dancing on the walls. He turned towards his roommate and sighed.

“The sheets are…” He looked away. “Nevermind.”

Háma got up and walked towards him, looking at the covers.

“It seems the thin one under has twisted and knotted over the bearskin above…” He squinted in the semi-darkness of the room. “Get up and I shall help you put them right.”

Faramir got up reluctantly, frowning over the state of his bed and helped Háma pull at the sheets… But as much as they tried, they could not figure it out.

“It’s a Level Eight.” Háma groaned, sitting down on his own bed. “We need help.”

Faramir stared at him, incredulous.

“Level Eight?”

Háma nodded.

“I have lived most of my life in Edoras, with Éomer and Éowyn and so…” He grinned. “It gets really cold there so we use a lot of covers… sheets and different skins, all piled over each other… They tangle viciously… That’s why we started giving it a name: an easy tangle which one person can undo is a Level One… and we would move up the list until Ten…” By now Háma was laughing. “The fun we had running to each other’s bedrooms bellowing ‘Level Five, I have a Level Five!!!’…”

Faramir stared, impassive. In the end he muttered:

“Really?”

“Yes.” Háma grinned. “It’s a pity Éomer sleeps with Lindir’s younger cousin, or I would get him… But fear not, Éowyn shall help us. After all, she once tackled a Level Ten by sheer force…”

Faramir looked up in horror.

“You are going to wake up Éowyn?” He spluttered. But Háma had already left the room, running through the hallway towards the other dorm. Faramir went out into the corridor, overwhelmed and watched his friend knock on Éowyn’s door, calling “Level Eight! Level Eight!” He closed his eyes, expecting Miss Baggins to appear at any minute, but she did not. Instead, Éowyn came out of her room and walked towards him in the darkness.

“Tauriel is not pleased.” She said, as she brushed past him to enter the room. “Háma, two people can tackle a Level Eight. Why did you wake me up?”

Háma pointed at Faramir’s bed.

“Look at that and tell me it was not necessary.”

Éowyn sighed deeply.

“Let us do this.”

She and Háma pulled the covers and yanked the sheets from under, moving the bed around wildly. Faramir tried to hold it steady but their strength was overpowering. At last the sheets went apart and they laid them down neatly on the bed.

“A job well done.” Háma smiled proudly.

“Indeed.” Éowyn yawned. “Next time call my brother. I am going to bed. Gōde Niht, fréond.”

Faramir stared after her in silence, wondering what a strange maiden she really was. He shuddered and got into bed with a sigh. Háma chuckled.

“Too many emotions for a day, fréond?”

Faramir looked at him in the newfound dark.

“Quite a lot of emotions, yes. Thank you for tackling this… Level Eight. Good night.” He covered himself with the now manageable sheets awkwardly and closed his eyes, hoping to swiftly forget the scene of the young Rohirric maiden pulling at his sheets in her nightgown.

 

*                *                 *

As the dawn crept over the Hidden Valley and the first rays of Sun stole their way into the bedrooms, only the sound of soft elven robes could be heard swishing through the corridors. Most of the students were still fast asleep, some in their beds and others on top of their Gamestones, depending of their sense of responsibility.

Boromir, however, was quite awake, staring at the tall carved ceiling of his room. In the bed beside him, Aragorn was sleeping peacefully, his head resting so nobly on the pillow he could have been any elf around. The young Gondorian lad sighed and turned around, unable to fall asleep again. He took his Smart Palantír from his nigh table, wondering if it was on any way similar to a normal Palantír and after fumbling with it for a while, he found it quite easy to use. He checked his personal page, where he had many pictures of himself and his friends. At the top of the page you could see a larger picture of himself, holding his arms up in the air. He grinned for he had taken the same picture as Aragorn and Éomer last year, all in the same posture. They all still had it on their own page.

Boromir swiped his finger along his pictures, smiling when he reached the summer holidays in Dôl Amrôth. There he was, sitting on the small wall in front of the grey ocean, Aendulas by his side. She was frowning, one hand in her hair as if trying to control it. It had been pretty windy, that day and she had been angered when they had taken their picture. Even now she was still angry that she appeared on his page in such an *undignified manner*. Boromir chuckled. Aendulas saw imperfections in herself that others would probably never notice.

Suddenly a few letters appeared across his screen and he deduced it might be the swift letter writing device that palantírs had within them. He pressed his finger on the writing and saw it had come from Aendulas, who was obviously awake as well.

“You are early.” It said. Boromir smiled.

“So are you.” He wrote back, drawing the words with his fingers across the screen.

“I am always early.” Aendulas answered.

“Of course you are… How could you possibly not wake up three hours earlier? You need time to make your hair perfect.” Boromir chuckled.

“My hair is always perfect.” She wrote, abandoning her elegant slander and drawing lose letters. She was clearly offended. Boromir laughed.

“Oh sorry, I forgot the white powder on your face and the black things on your eyes and eyelashes.”

Aendulas wrote back very fast.

“YOU ARE ANNOYING.”

Boromir hid his palantír under his cushion with a grin and wondered how much he would have to pay for that later. But he did not mind; provoking Aendulas out of her composure was one of his lifetime goals.

Meanwhile, in the room next door, Éomer had woken up because of his roommate. Melpomaen was arranging all of his robes in the wardrobe and the swishing sounds and thuds drove the Rohirric lad mad.

“FIGWIT!” He screamed suddenly and the scrawny elf jumped, sending his cloaks flying through the room. He scowled at Éomer.

“What is your damage?” He muttered.

Éomer got out of bed and walked towards him, menacingly.

“Are you calling me foolish?”

“Every day of my life.” Figwit sighed, picking his clothes up carefully.

Éomer slapped down the robes that Figwit had already hung up and stormed out of the room. He entered Boromir and Aragorn’s, next-door and closed the door with a slam. He was glad they never bolted it.

“I am so tired of Figwit! Help me throw him out of the window!”

Aragorn woke up, grabbing his pocket knife and then calmed down, seeing it was only his friend. Boromir, who had still been smiling from his prior conversation, solomned up and raised his arms.

“Calm down, Eorlingas.” He said. “What happened?”

“He called me foolish.”

Boromir and Aragorn both snorted with laughter but then made a very serious face, seeing as Éomer was almost boiling.

“Do not worry about Fig.” Aragorn said, with a smile, his voice transmitting calmness as usual. It worked and Éomer sighed, sitting down on Boromir’s bed, a crestfallen look appearing across his face.

“I wish Gamling had not left… Then I would not have to share my room with that stupid elf.”

“Well, Gamling had his reasons…” Aragorn sighed. “But he may come back, so don’t despair just yet.”

“If he does come back, it won’t be this year. And then he will be held back…” Éomer punched the bed. “Is it time to go down to breakfast yet?”

His friends laughed.

“If you deeply desire to eat in your nightgown in front of everyone, be my guest.” Boromir smiled.

Éomer turned red.

“I shall return to my room and dress.” He ran out into the corridor. They heard his door slamming shut.

Aragorn grinned at Boromir.

“We should get dressed as well and accompany poor Éomer to breakfast.”

“More likely Émo-ear… as in Emo-tionally-unstable this morning.” Boromir snorted, but his manner was not unkind.

By that time many of the students were pouring out of their rooms and the first gong also rang loud and clear. The first year maidens had also woken up – all except Éowyn – and were dressing in their school uniform. There was a loud noise of footsteps in the corridors and many Guiders were calling for silence in despair.

Éowyn awoke at the second gong and decided to get up quickly, just in case Miss Baggins was wandering about the corridors. She pulled on her school uniform and ran out after Tauriel. They met Eydís and Aendulas along the way and then the four of them sped along to catch up with Boromir, Aragorn and Éomer, who were about to go down the big staircase.

“Good morning!” Éowyn said, cheerfully, and Boromir punched her in the shoulder with a grin. Aragorn turned around, a little shocked.

“Boromir! Careful with the maidens, for pity’s sake!” He muttered.

Éowyn turned a little red while staring at him, but managed to hold her ground.

“Do not worry.” She mumbled. “I am tough.”

Boromir laughed and ruffled her hair.

“You sure are. I wish I had a little sister like you, but I got Faramir instead…”

Everyone laughed except Aragorn, who was frowning.

“Regardless of that, you should not go around treating maidens as if they were your fellow rugby teammates… You can be such a beast sometimes…”

“Oh, Strider…” Éomer grinned. “Éowyn can take a punch. And she can give them away very easily as well…” He scowled at her.

Éowyn punched Boromir back.

“Indeed.” She smiled and Boromir laughed; the more he got to know her, the fonder he grew of her.

They had a quick breakfast at the same table, and Gimli joined them, grey circles under his eyes. He had been up most of the night playing games again.

“Where’s my brother?” Boromir craned his neck around the room and saw Faramir sitting with Háma at the far corner of the room. Éomer stared in the same direction and sighed.

“Your brother seems to be getting along quite well with Háma…” He remarked. “I wish Háma were a year older, we are best friends after all and it would be great to have him in my class…”

Boromir chuckled.

“I would also like Faramir to be in my class, but if they get along, then that is that.”

Faramir and Háma were laughing at a pile of parchment they had found in a basket in front of the dining hall. It seemed a few students – mostly elves – wrote  something everyday about the school. They had discovered a section in the parchment called *Sensation of Enlightening*, where students could write their own verses and songs. Both lads were cracking up reading some of them.

“That could not have been an elf.” Faramir said, pointing at one of the first. “Do they even know the concept of stringing words together?”

“They know the concept of mixing words together in a barrel and then retching them out on parchment alright.” Háma laughed. “Look at this one: _Where are your eyes, now that the Sun has gone down? They never liked my Moon_.” Faramir snorted. “Someone has trouble with a maiden… Or a lad…”

Back to the other table, Tauriel was checking the First Year timetables. She took hold of Éowyn’s arm, excitedly.

“This seems so much more interesting than the academy I went to in Mirkwood.” She beamed. “Look, we get to learn so many things!”

Éowyn sighed, half asleep behind her oatmeal.

“That is great, Tauriel.” She mumbled. “What classes do we have today?”

“Our first class is… History. And then Geography.” Tauriel answered. The second years snorted.

“Lord Elrond has really given you a bright morning.” Aragorn laughed. “We have woodshop!!!” Boromir exclaimed, happily.

“I want woodshop.” Éowyn wailed. “I do not see it on our timetable.”

“Worry not, sister.” Éomer munched his oats. “You will get it on the trimester after winter.”

Aendulas sighed deeply.

“Well, I like history.” She said. “But on the first morning of the week…”

“I know…” Eydís chorused. “And to think it shall be old Balin mumbling for an hour… We are very fond of him back home, but he can be quite tiring when it comes to telling tales…”

Gimli laughed.

“Oh, Eydís.” He said. “Remember when we were youngsters and escaped his *story-telling sessions* every single time? We had so much fun running off to Dale with Fíli and Kíli and playing hide and seek.”

Eydís laughed, her voice booming out over the table.

“Yes… poor Balin… he would ask us in the morning how we had liked the tale and we would all be answering: very much, very much… It was priceless…” She sighed. “I miss the brothers, I wish Thorin would have let Fíli start this year with us… Now he shall get held back.”

Seeing as the others were looking with interest, Gimli grinned around and explained:

“Fíli and Kíli are Thorin’s nephews. They are a handful. But we miss their ways already…” He glanced at Tauriel. “You have actually already met them, they accompanied us to Rivendell.”

Tauriel looked up and choked on her oatmeal. She started coughing so hard that Éowyn had to bang her on the back, which did not really help. Gimli guffawed.

“Those foolish little…?” Tauriel managed to say, her voice husky of coughing.

“Indeed.” Gimli and Eydís said at the same time.

Everyone turned to Tauriel, interested.

“What happened?” Aendulas asked, inquisitive.

Tauriel scowled and mumbled something, digging in her oatmeal with her spoon.

“Kíli did not behave like a gentleman…” Gimli chuckled. “I believe his words were that he would…”

Tauriel sent him a look so fierce that he shut up in mid-sentence and proceeded eating, with a smile.

After breakfast, the students started heading towards their respective classrooms and all the first years grouped together to find their way. They were surprised to find out how many they really were, and from all over Middle Earth as well. Most of them were men and halflings, though.

Éowyn, who had quickly found her voice over the first years, called over to everyone in the corridor.

“We should be heading downstairs, to the lower level…” She said. “All history classes seem to be there. But it says on our timetable that our home classroom is on the third floor so we shall have to climb later.”

The string of rowdy first years tagged along the corridor until they reached a small door with a sign that said *History*. As they opened it, they could see a small flight of spiral stairs going down, lit only dimly by a few torches. More than one of them shuddered.

“I am not going down there.” Aendulas stated. “Who knows what wanders in the deep… Probably no one can breathe in there…”

“Underground places are for dwarves.” Legolas grumbled. “I am setting no foot in there either.”

Suddenly a calm voice made everyone turn sharply.

“Is that so, master elf?” An old dwarf stood behind them, carrying a very battered book indeed. His robes hung loosely around him but they did not hide the huge stomach that fell over his legs. His hair and beard where so white they shone in the sunlight of the court.

“Balin…” Gimli and Eydís said in unison.

“It’s Master Balin now.” The teacher said, heading towards the staircase that led to his classroom. “And in exchange I shall call you ‘masters’ and ‘mistresses’ as well, for everyone in this class deserves respect.” He looked at Legolas, a glint in his eye. “Now will you all follow me to my classroom, masters and mistresses?”

The first years dared not answer and huddled together to follow Balin to the lower level, descending the stairs and trying not to panic in the stuffy dark. When their feet finally touched the ground level, airless and windowless, they could see a big wooden door with, once again, the word *history* carved upon it. Balin took a key out of his pocket and the door swung open for all of them to see.

The room was not altogether unpleasant… It was quite stuffy and the lighting was dim, but it did not have the same lack of air as the staircase down. There were many tables with comfortable benches and a few herbs were burning in the fireplace in the corner. A lonely armchair stood in front of the class and Balin slumped down in it, while waiting for the students to sit down.

“Halflings in the front.” He mumbled lazily, while opening his book. “I did not make the rules, it’s just a matter of common sense so that all these big folks don’t keep you from learning.”

Éowyn headed for the very back of the class with Háma but she caught sight of Tauriel beckoning her to the front. She sighed and settled for the fourth row, beside her maiden friends. Háma also came along and joined Faramir in the row in front of them, who had sat down right behind the halflings. Gimli joined them as well while Legolas sat down right behind him, in order to be next to Tauriel. As they all waited, they could not help thinking those benches were really comfortable.

“This is excellent for a morning class…” Éowyn whispered. “Stuffy atmosphere, a soothing smell, comfortable seats… My eyes shall never have to stay open…”

Balin looked up at everyone and then opened his book.

“ _There was Eru, the One, who in Arda is called Ilúvatar;…_ ”1

One by one, the students started disconnecting. It was not that they found it uninteresting… neither did they care not for history… but the heat in the classroom, their comfortable benches, and not to mention Balin’s soothing voice, made concentrating a really difficult thing to do. Éowyn gave up after the first sentence and lay her head down on her parchment, whilst next to her, Tauriel was having a hard time hiding her yawns. Legolas was looking at Balin with no expression at all on his face and in front of him, Gimli was digging his fingernails into his cheeks in order to stay awake, a quest that Háma had long given up, for he was laying on his arms, deep asleep. Only Faramir seemed to be paying attention and scribbling eagerly on his parchment whilst nodding at Balin’s words.

At one point Eydís started snoring gently and Aendulas, who sat next to her, poked her with her pen. Éowyn went purple at the sight of it and tried to choke her laughter in her hair. Aendulas poked her instead, afraid that Balin would say something, but he was too caught up in his reading to notice anything.

After what seemed an eternity, the bell that marked the ending of the first class rang. In a few moments, the bell of the next class would ring and they had but a short time to walk upstairs. But the noise of the bell was so faint down in the lower level that Balin did not hear it and kept on reading out loud. The students groaned.

In the end Aendulas shot up her hand and remarked:

“Master Balin… The bell has rung.”

Balin looked around, as if coming out of a deep sleep.

“The bell? Where?”

The class laughed as Aendulas rolled her eyes.

“A few moments ago, Master Balin.” We should be heading to our next class or we shall not make it on time.”

“Oh…” Balin closed his book quietly. “Yes, yes, you do so, mistress…”

The bundle of inactive first years suddenly became a fully awake and active one, hurrying out of that classroom as fast as they could handle. When they finally saw the sunlight again, they heaved a huge sigh.

“Well that was a drag.” Háma mumbled, his voice husky from the herb fumes.

“Are you joking?” Faramir looked radiant. “It was so interesting! Of course, I already knew about the origins of our species, but the way that book was written… I shall have to ask Master Balin to lend it to me… Oh, the style, the richness of the words!”

Everyone was staring at him and he piped down, looking around him, surprised.

“Did you manage to stay awake, pay attention and even form an opinion about the style?” Eydís muttered. “You are truly amazing.”

The first years started climbing the marble staircase in a hurry in order to reach their home classroom on time.

“Even I had trouble staying awake… and I’m an elf…” Legolas said, sprinting up the stairs in an elegant manner. “But I already know history, so it shan’t be too hard.”

Háma huffed and puffed as they reached the third landing.

“Faramir… you can lend me your notes, right? When the time comes…”

The third floor corridor was bright and shiny, very different from the lower level. The students felt glad of that change and felt that geography would not be just as hard in that very bettered environment.

Their classroom was right in front of them when they reached the landing, so they were not very late. As they entered, they noticed their teacher was already sitting there, behind the desk. They hurried inside and sat down, leaving the first seats to the halflings.

“School bells…” Their teacher said, looking up suddenly. “…all that running and sprinting through the corridors, leaving you all out of breath because there isn’t enough distance between one and the other… am I right?”

The students smiled a little and some nodded.

Their teacher stood up and walked to the blackboard. He was not at all tall, as he was a halfling, but his stern voice towered over everything else. He took up some chalk and wrote elegantly: Bilbo Baggins.

“That is my name.” He said, looking back at the class. “Bilbo Baggins, and I am from the Shire, just like all those little ones sitting in the front.”

The halflings giggled and the rest of the class could not help but smile at this. They truly looked like the most innocent of creatures.

“Do you know where the Shire lays?” Bilbo Baggins asked the class, squinting for an answer. “And I don’t mean the hobbits… they should already know, and if they don’t, I shall give up on teaching.” He looked at Háma. “You there!” Háma jumped. “Do you know where the Shire is?”

Háma cleared his throat nervously and looked up.

“A little…”

“What do you mean, a little?” Bilbo asked. “What are you implying?” He winked at the class and they laughed.

Háma went red.

“No, I did not mean you were little…” He stuttered. “I just cannot say the exact location of the Shire without a map to situate it on…”

“I see.” Bilbo said quietly. He drew nearer to the blackboard and drew an uneven square upon it. He looked back at Háma. “Imagine this is Middle Earth, and yes, ‘after’ all the Valar history you have just learned downstairs.” He winked at them again and they all laughed, even Háma, who was feeling a little nervous. “Now… can you tell me where the Shire is? Come, stand up and point it out for me.”

Háma walked towards the blackboard and stared at the uneven shape Bilbo had drawn on it. It looked nothing like Middle Earth, to be honest, and he sighed. He drew a vertical line first, right in the middle of the odd shape.

“This is the mountain range that goes along Rivendell, Lôgrad and Gondor…” He mumbled.

“The Misty Mountains, yes…” Bilbo nodded. “Although they don’t stretch as far down to Rohan or Gondor…”

“Well…” Háma continued. “If these are the Misty Mountains, the Shire must be here.” He marked a spot on the left side of the line he had drawn.

Bilbo stared at him, expressionless. Háma felt even more nervous. In the end, the teacher looked at the class.

“Is this correct?”

There was a slight mumbling and Bilbo laughed out loud.

“Yes, of course, why not, whatever…” He waved his hand at them. “Who cares if it’s a few miles more to the north or to the south?” He picked up the chalk again and marked another spot on the square, on the same height as Háma’s, but much closer to the edge. “It’s here.”

Everyone stared bemused and Háma scurried back to his seat, grinning that he had at least put it on the right side of the map. Faramir, next to him, smiled and patted him on the back.

“Why is geography important, if you may ask?” Bilbo went on. “You, what is your name?” He asked Háma suddenly.

“Háma, sir.”

“Háma, why is geography important?”

The young Rohirric lad sighed, wondering if Bilbo would ever stop asking him that day and looked up.

“Because we should know where we live and where our neighbours come from as well?”

“I don’t know… Don’t ask me.” Bilbo looked at Faramir. “Do you know?”

Faramir cleared his throat.

“Such subjects as history, languages and geography are all important for the same reason: we should learn about ourselves and each other and know how to respect different cultures. That can only be done by studying all those subjects about them.”

Bilbo applauded and beamed around the class.

“Yes!” He exclaimed. “This lad… What’s your name?”

“Faramir, sir.”

“Faramir has spoken the true words of Lord Elrond’s doctrine! We should all applaud him for his wisdom.”

The class laughed and some of the hobbits applauded in glee. Faramir looked quite satisfied with himself.

“But, of course, had I answered that question myself…” Bilbo added. “I would have just said: because it’s interesting.”

He walked back towards the blackboard and started wiping away his version of the Middle Earth map while Faramir turned red and the laughter in the classroom became more evident. Éowyn could not have felt happier seeing Faramir’s embarrassment.

“Know it all.” She muttered under her breath with a smile.

Bilbo Baggins turned towards the class.

“We shall now discuss the Shire.” He announced. “We start small, then we go big!”

When the mid morning bell finally rung, everyone scrambled up from their seats and moved towards the courtyard, which bathed placidly in the rising sun. Professor Baggins had given each and every one of them a large stack of parchment that they had to stow away in their lockers in the corridor. As the first years fumbled with their keys, trying to keep the parchment together, a smiling Boromir arrived, accompanied as always by Aragorn and Éomer.

“Did you have fun?” He beamed around. “We sure did! I see you already have Bags’ parchment pile… *Exercises for the whole year* he calls them… and you’d better start doing them now.”

“Easy on them, Boromir.” Aragorn grinned, slamming his locker open and pulling out a water skin. “They will be scared beyond their wits if they keep listening to you…”

Faramir shut his locker and looked at Háma, happily.

“I think we have really good teachers…” He whispered, in order to avoid everyone’s stares. “We shall learn so much…”

“Well, I am glad that someone is happy…” Háma grinned. “I do wish Professor Baggins had not made me speak so much during this first lesson, though… I really know nothing about Hobbiton…”

The first years scattered around the courtyard for their morning break and soon many of them had started a game of hide and seek. Boromir grinned at the little hobbits and then turned to the group.

“A game of rugby, anyone?”

Aragorn, Éomer and Háma moved forward eagerly and so did Éowyn. Eydís and Gimli shrugged at each other and then followed the others down to the game fields with Legolas, Tauriel, Faramir and Aendulas. Some other forms were already playing in corners of the different fields so that there would be enough space for everyone.

Éowyn felt amazed at the sight of it: the grounds were huge! It almost looked impossible that a place like Rivendell, set between rock and water could have such a large valley for school sports. There were at least five different game fields, most of them with stone seats around them so that others could watch the matches. There were two large rugby fields, one for practice and one for matches, and a small one for general training. There was also a large lacrosse field and an elevated ring for dwarf-boxing. It was, altogether, spectacular.

“Alright!” Boromir exclaimed, grinning around at everyone. “I shall be one captain and Strider shall be the other! Let us pick our teams!”

“I pick Éomer!” Aragorn laughed, beckoning the Rohirric lad over. Éomer felt glad he was considered at least the third best.

“I pick Éowyn.” Boromir winked at her. Éowyn walked towards him, beaming whilst Éomer snorted.

“We pick Háma.” Aragorn said then, following his teammate’s advice and Háma walked towards them, grinning at Éowyn.

“Gimli.” Said Boromir.

“Eydís, I guess.” Sighed Éomer.

“You are such a chauvinist.” Éowyn muttered.

“We are one man short…” Boromir looked at the seats, where Faramir, Aendulas, Legolas and Tauriel had settled down. “We need one of you!”

Faramir picked up a book in response and both Legolas and Aendulas suddenly seemed very interested in their hair. Tauriel laughed and came down to the field.

“I have never played before.” She warned Boromir.

“That is quite alright.” He laughed. “Elves are good at everything, so my team has to be the best.”

“Ungewene…” Éomer laughed, with a sneer. “Two maidens on your team? You shall never win.”

Éowyn walked towards him with a smile.

“You are going to eat your words so fast that you shall retch them right out on the field.” She hissed.

There was not much time to play a proper game but the short amount they had was used greatly, for their match was one that made people stare. Not only were Boromir and Aragorn excellent players, but Háma and Éowyn surprised quite a few people with their force and insight. Gimli, Eydís and Tauriel provided force and agility and Éomer made quite a few good throws.

From the other corner of the field, the fourth year game captain gazed at them with a look of wonder. Damrod had always been particularly interested in fresh new talent and he had always enjoyed watching the try-outs. By now, he knew that the Rohirric lads carried a fire in that sport that was unique and fascinating to the rest of them. He shifted his position and then called Boromir over, who came towards him, wondering what that was all about.

“That was a fine match.” He smiled at the young Gondorian lad. Boromir looked pleased at a praise from the Games Captain, but kept his words modest.

“We have quite a few good players in my form.” He said.

“You are an exceptional player.” Damrod remarked. “You were chosen captain in the first year when mostly the first years work under the second year captain… You have certain insight when it comes to picking teams…”

Boromir turned red and looked away, feeling overwhelmed by so much praise.

“Stri… Aragorn is an excellent player…” He mumbled.

“Aragorn truly is.” Damrod interrupted. “But his lack of responsibility and wildness in the field does not make him a leader. You, however, are going to be captain of the second year, mark my words. We still have to make the final decision, but I firmly believe my statement.”

Boromir’s knees shook a little.

“I…” He muttered. He was very much in awe of Damrod, who acted like an older cousin and mentor back home. As much as he had boasted to Strider about it, he could not help admiring him greatly and found it hard to maintain an eloquent conversation with him.

“Boromir.” Damrod grinned. “I see two Rohirric lads over there who would make a great asset to the team this year… What do you think?”

Boromir looked surprised.

“Two? You mean Éomer and Háma?”

“Éomer is already on the team…” Damrod laughed. “I mean the red-haired one and the fair-haired one over there.”

Boromir’s gaze followed the direction in which Damrod was pointing and almost choked, for the fair-haired ‘lad’ was no one else but Éowyn. They stood far away from the others, so it was possible that Damrod had confused her with a lad from afar… And her manner of playing was not very feminine either… But before Boromir could inform him of this error, Damrod patted him on the shoulder and returned to his classmates just as the bell rang, stating that break was over. Boromir sighed and headed back to his own group.

“What did he want?” Aragorn asked, as they climbed up the hill towards the school.

Boromir decided to leave out the part where Damrod had practically sworn to make him team captain.

“He thinks Háma is very good… You hear that, Háma?” The Gondorian lad grinned at him. “You should come to try-outs. And also…” He snorted. “Damrod thought Éowyn was a man and praised her playing as much as Háma’s…”

Everyone went still, shocked at such a confusion, but Éowyn burst out laughing.

“I am so proud…” She grinned. “I shall come to try-outs as well, then.”

Éomer and Aragorn looked at each other, incredulous but Boromir smiled.

“You really are something…” He said. “I cannot promise you the outcome of try-outs, but you have heard Lord Elrond as well as anyone: everyone has a chance.”

Éomer snorted.

“Right, everyone has a chance… But some should know not to participate… like the halflings or the elves, or the dwarves… Or the maidens. Rugby is the province of men.”

Boromir heaved a huge sigh and walked on ahead, catching up with his brother. They heard bickering behind them, but cared not. It would be complicated if brother and sister would keep that up during their school years…

“What do you think, brother?” Asked Boromir. “Am I a fool to ask Éowyn to come to the try-outs?”

Faramir sighed, with a smile.

“You are no fool…” He answered. “When it comes to rugby, you know best. I know nothing of it and I have but to trust you.”

“And your honest opinion, brother?” Boromir added.

“I should say that it is genderless, and that the strongest and most insightful should be chosen, no matter what or who they are…” Faramir sighed. “I am a man and I cannot throw a rugby ball half as far as Éowyn… Yet they will look at her wrongly for coming to try-outs yet welcome me with open arms… It seems truly foolish.”

Boromir smiled and threw an arm over his brother’s shoulder.

“If your classmates only knew how kind you really were…” He said, with a laugh. “Everyone would adore you as much as I do.”

“Get off.”

 

*                *                 *

 

As the first years were settling down in their seats for the next lesson, Lord Elrond swept in with a smile and left a pile of books on one of the tables.

“Hand these out, please.” He asked one of the hobbits in the front row. As the little one passed the books around, Lord Elrond stared at everyone, eyes twinkling.

“Welcome, first years, to calculus. Not only shall we learn our numbers but we shall also learn to calculate the distances between objects and the speed in which steeds move… Not to mention widening our horizons with the knowledge of the moons and the stars…”

The first years stared at each other. Calculus was not a very popular lesson, as many found it difficult, but Lord Elrond was mystifying it on a surprising way. Éowyn felt her interest prick up quite surprisingly.

It was not a dull lesson and everyone followed it quite easily… Elrond started his first class explaining the properties of numbers and classified them in different types, weather they were even or odd. Then, he amused the class by writing them in Sindarin and Faramir, who cared more for languages than for calculus, copied them down, happily.

Sindarin, however, proved to be a much harder class for the first years, for not only had they to learn an entire new script, but the sounds were so foreign to their voices that they felt they would never grasp it.

Lord Celeborn was not a close teacher, like Elrond, who had enjoyed communicating with the students and asking their interests. He simply started explaining the foundations of the language, in a tone of voice similar to Balin’s, yet a little more musical. The elves, of course, had no trouble at all following the lesson, but the rest of the class stared in awe at the symbols in their books that were supposed to be a written language. Celeborn spoke in the common tongue, though, which was a relief. Once again, only Faramir seemed satisfied at the end of the lesson.

“This is going to be hard.” Éowyn muttered, staring at her parchment as they walked to the dining hall for lunch.

“I know…” Eydís sighed, beside her. “I shall never even be able to write it…”

Aendulas and Tauriel seemed much more confident, though. Tauriel spoke fluent Sindarin, of course and Aendulas had studied it before. Faramir, at their side, was rapidly turning the pages of the new language book, excited.

“This is just repetition.” He told the maidens. “Read it once every evening and it shall stay in your minds.”

Éowyn looked at him, in surprise.

“You are in a good mood today…” She remarked. “You must really like going to class.”

Faramir stared at her and she devised the first sign of a smile on his face.

“You are quite right.” He said, and hurried in order to catch up to Háma, who was trying to stuff his Sindarin book in his satchel on a very unceremonious way indeed.

As they made their way to lunch, they saw several older students hanging up pieces of parchment on the walls, announcing the school’s sport try-outs. Arwen and Saeltheria stood on a table, next to a draft of the Leading Maidens; and Boromir was hanging up his own parchment next to Damrod, offering rugby try-outs. When the first years walked in, everyone looked at them expectantly and a reaction they had, for many lads ran towards the rugby try-outs table and tried to sign their name all at once. When they finally sat down to eat, there was an excited chatter about the different sports and the possible afternoon classes. High School Rivendell was starting to sound very exciting indeed!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter TBA soon.
> 
> 1\. Reference: J.R.R.Tolkien, The Silmarillion.


	6. You All Breathe So Loud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf's classes are a riot and Haldir is haughty a.f. !! Also, who shall be team captain in rugby?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little shorter than the others, but fear not! The next will come out really soon! I'm sorry I had to change the release date, I have been a little sick these days.
> 
> My friend has created this really amazing backstory for Háma: where he comes from, his family, etc. I can't wait to write it for you guys, and I only hope I can do justice to her thoughts. 
> 
> New characters in this chapter: Pearl Took, Pippin's older sister. And Beleg, the rugby coach who has only been mentioned for now. He's an invented character and his name means Great/Mighty in Sindarin.
> 
> So, I really hope you enjoy this chapter!!! Thank you for your support :D

** Chapter Six **

** You all breathe so loud **

 

_Too long have I lived with a shadow overhead. Too short are the years that have passed since that incident. All I can do is glide in the shadows of a life I do not deserve, for I know that deep down everything was my fault. I am so sorry._

 

Nothing made the first years laugh as much as Gandalf’s lesson that very afternoon.

They had lazed around in the courtyard after lunch until Aendulas had suggested to watch the fourth years’ lacrosse match down at the game fields. It had been quite interesting; the elves were so elegant it seemed they were about to fly any moment. Only Gimli and Eydís had manifested their boredom, but the rest felt they had secretly enjoyed it.

As they walked up to class for their afternoon lessons, Gimli sighed deeply.

“Why do you elves turn everything into sleep? After that lacrosse match, I shall never stay awake during lessons…”

Tauriel laughed as Legolas spun around, irritated at the dwarf.

“Oh, Gimli.” She said. “We all have our preferences… But it seems that yours lay in whatever elves dislike…”

“So do yours.” Gimli added quickly, but Tauriel smiled a little.

“I like certain things about dwarves…” She said. “I could like their sports and their lifestyle if I knew but a little more about them…”

It was Legolas’ turn to laugh.

“Of course you would…” He said, scornfully. “Tauriel, the dwarf-lover.”

The two of them started bickering and kept that rhythm until they reached the classroom on the third floor. As they sat down, one of the maiden hobbits turned around and looked at them, reproachfully.

“Stop it.” She hissed. “If you are going to argue behind me I shall not make it through this lesson alive!”

Legolas and Tauriel shut up in surprise, staring at the young hobbit in front of them. Her curly chestnut hair was somewhat longer than that of most halflings and her eyes were hazel brown. She was batting her long lashes at them now, though her expression remained hard.

“I…” Legolas mumbled.

“Sorry…” Tauriel whispered.

Gimli snorted and then started laughing so loud that he banged his fists on the table. But he too was stopped by the fiery hobbit.

“You are no exception to this rule.” She said, bluntly. “I have been listening to you whisper, mumble, sigh and argue all morning and I am not going to put up with this any longer.”

Gimli stared at her, incredulous, but there was something about her look that made him lower his gaze and concentrate very hard indeed on his book.

Just as the rest of the class was taking in the little scene, the doors swung open and Gandalf marched up, in a hurry, holding his hat with one hand, his staff with the other and his books with his elbow. He somehow managed to wink at them and mumble a “hello class” before dropping everything slobbishly on the table. His deep piercing blue eyes skimmed around the classroom as he looked at each and every student, individually, as if trying to determine their character.

“Well, well…” He said, in an amused tone. “Aren’t you fresh little cutlets.”

Everyone stared at each other, amused at Gandalf’s use of words. He had a twinkle in his eye and a big grin on his face, which made him quite likeable. He was one of the well-known teachers of the school, of course, as he carried his wizard duties throughout Middle-Earth. Every single halfling knew him, and so did the Rohirric and the Gondorian court. He was even quite famous among those he had never met, as many a folk spoke about him. Most of the first years were quite eager to meet him when the time came to do so.

Gandalf sat down and took one book out of the pile. It was not as thick as the others and had no hard cover. Gimli frowned, squinting for better vision.

“Is that… a booklet?”

Aendulas stared at it, amazed.

“Why, I believe that it is the _Weekly Anorian_ …” She hissed. She proceeded to mutter: “I receive them _weekly_.”

Háma turned towards her.

“Is that some imperialistic Gondorian paper?”

“You wish.” She sneered. “It is actually quite informative on the latest trends. I have already pre-ordered my dresses for this season.”

Gandalf looked up towards the whispering and smiled.

“Yes, this is indeed the _Weekly Anorian_ … a very interesting paper indeed. It has this page which…” He cleared his voice. “… reviews books and plays very accurately. We shall start this class today by listening to the review of the latest Hyves and Tides book, and discussing it.”

There were many splutters indicating the level of excitement, as Hyves and Tides was quite a popular series among the youngsters. Even Faramir, who had trouble approving on the method of teaching, held a satisfied smile. Only Gimli and Háma seemed rather bored, along with a smart-looking halfling.

“Gandalf, is this quite necessary?” Háma groaned. “Surely you must see Hyves and Tides as a maiden’s tale…”

“A maiden’s tale? Hyves and Tides?” Gandalf’s protests rose higher than any other ones in the classroom. He slammed the paper on the table and brought fourth a thick brown book. “You had better sit back and open your ears wide, master Háma, for I shall read you the first chapter and of the first book in the Hyves and Tides series, and you shall not be disappointed, oh no – for when I finish you shall be begging me to continue no matter how loud the bell rings.” And with those indignant words, he sat straight and started reading, whilst most of the class murmured in delight. “ _Deep in the night it was, indeed, when the rider left the forest at last. He knew there was no hope for him, but there was something he had to bring to safety, something in which his people could lie their hopes on. Therefore he rode swift across the dessert of Elkhorn and cared not for its biting heat…_ ”

Gandalf’s voice carried away through the classroom and as he read, the attention span of the students grew. The novel was certainly not the best story ever written, but somehow, it got through to most of those who had not read it yet, for it was exciting and had colourful descriptions. Of course, Gandalf did not read during the whole lesson, but proceeded to discuss the booklet he had brought. The class joined in, happily, but Háma was slightly disappointed that he had not kept on reading. It would take him some time to admit it though.

The students felt happy and refreshed after Gandalf’s lesson. He winked at them to say goodbye and left, while they waited for their drama teacher. Everyone was murmuring to each other about the wonderful class they had just had and felt sorry that it had seemed so short.

Faramir sighed deeply and turned to Háma.

“Well, did you hate it?”

Háma snorted.

“Hyves and whatever? Of course.” He looked away. Gimli, on the other hand, was discussing it feverently with Eydís. Faramir smiled and arranged his notes; he kept them in separated skins for each lesson and he did not want them to get untidy. He had already learned the Sindarin numbers Elrond had taught them and had written them on every page, as to keep the order. Háma had sighed deeply.

“What exactly is drama?” A Gondorian student asked, looking around the class with a frown in the hopes that someone should answer. “Is it doing plays based on books?”

A loud discussion emerged from that question, until Aendulas stood up. She placed a flock of her hair neatly back on her shoulder, where it had slipped off and smiled at the class.

“In drama you study written plays that were once books. We will most probably act them out as well.” She said, and then sat down again.

The murmur subdued a little and Tauriel turned to Éowyn.

“How does she manage to be so lordly?”

Éowyn shrugged.

“I am a daughter of kings and I do not know.” She answered.

Legolas, beside them, let out a snort.

“It has to do with the race of Númenor.” He said, softly. “Their elven blood helps them seem… more like elves.”

Tauriel gave him a little push.

“Don’t be all conceited.” She grinned.

Legolas was about to retort when Gimli suddenly slipped into the seat next to him, having changed places with one of the Gondorian lads. The elf moved a few inches away from him, in shock.

“What?” Gimli said, rudely. Legolas regained his composure.

“What? Being thrown together as roommates was not enough for you? Do you also wish to be near me in class?”

Háma and a few others let out a loud “oooooooooooh”. Gimli stared at the elf, angrily.

“That Gondorian beside you was blocking my view.” He admitted. “I should have looked closer to see who he was sitting next to.”

Háma jumped out of his seat and ran to the front of the class, slumping down at the teacher’s desk. He banged his fist on it and put on a serious frowning face.

“I am Lord Elrond and I shall not tolerate such disputes at my school.” He said, imitating his voice. “Now embrace.”

Everyone started laughing, even Legolas and Gimli, for Háma really was a magnificent actor. His impression of Lord Elrond was almost perfect.

“Do someone else!” A hobbit cried. “Do Gandalf!”

Háma narrowed his eyes and smiled sweetly at the class.

“You two cutlets should stop fighting. Tell me not there are no better ways of touching a person.”

The class screamed with laughter as Gimli threw his books at Háma, who only missed them by an inch. He himself had tears in his eyes.

“Do Balin!” Eydís called.

“Do Bilbo!” Cried the hobbit maiden from before.

“Wait, do Celeborn!” Tauriel stood up. “Oh please, do Celeborn! I would love to see that!”

Háma, encouraged by everyone’s shouts, walked to the blackboard in the stiffest manner possible and put on a slightly haughty look.

“This is how you write the Sindarin characters for tree.” He said, imitating Celeborn’s voice to perfection. He drew some incoherent lines on the board. “There is only one way to write it and I shall not accept it if you do not follow the exact same order as I do.”

The class was screaming and banging with their fists on the desks, so distracted that they did not notice the quiet figure that had been standing at the doorway for the past few minutes. It was Faramir who saw him first and he hushed the class with a sudden terrified look. Everyone went quiet except Háma, who was facing the blackboard. When he noticed the subdued atmosphere, he swung around and saw their drama teacher standing in the doorway. He went just as pale as the chalk he was holding, as the elf stared at him.

He was tall, beautiful as all of his kin, yet strong and very fair. His hair was neatly held behind his back and his dark brow reflected his eyes perfectly. His posture was, of course, noble, and he dragged a long red cloak behind him. He stood there, simply looking at Háma, as if inviting him to behave. Háma did not think it over and rushed back to his seat, where he hid behind the halflings and wished he had not done all that acting.

Everyone remained dead silent, fearing the worst of outbursts from their drama teacher. But he merely walked to his table, never taking his eyes of the group of students, and left his books there. He did not, however, take of his cloak.

He kept on staring at the classroom for what seemed an eternity, and then, finally, narrowed his eyes.  
“You all breathe so loud…” He said, in a melodic arrogant voice.

The students stared at each other and some of the hobbits held their breath in fear.

The teacher smiled softly.

“Breathing techniques… Silence techniques… Meditation and focus.” He said. “All this we shall learn in our classes.” He walked through the rows of seats, his thick cloak swishing behind him. “Although we do have a book and we shall read many plays, most of our classes shall be practical.” He smiled again. “Fear not, for none of us are born actors, but through hard work and practice, any of us can be useful on some way or another.” He stopped next to Háma and looked directly at him. Háma looked away, slightly annoyed. First the trouble in Geography and now this… It was just the first day and he had already been crowned troublesome by two teachers.

The drama teacher walked back towards the blackboard and then turned around, facing the students with an elegant twirl of his cloak.

“I am Haldir, and with me you shall learn true drama.”

As the class went on, he took various books from his table and explained what they would be doing that year.

“We shall start, of course, with a special winter play that I shall tell you about next lesson… Every year, all the classes come together for this play, so the rehearsals shall be during free periods. Meanwhile, in our classes you shall learn the basics to be able to perform on a positive and dignified manner. The winter play is the most important one of the year and it is Lord Elrond’s special wish that everyone works hard together.” He frowned slightly at Legolas and Gimli, who were elbowing each other for space, and proceeded. “There are no exceptions permitted in drama class, everyone is to participate. There are many roles in the winter play and if you have to act as a stone, so it shall be.”

The class laughed a little.

“Éomer kept forgetting his lines so he was to play a horse last year.” Éowyn whispered to Tauriel, with a grin. “He never admitted it to me but he told Háma and, of course…”

Haldir turned towards her.

“Ah yes, Éomer the Illiterate.” He murmured. “How are you at remembering lines, young lady? For you are his sister, are you not?”

Éowyn gulped, suddenly realising everyone had turned towards her.

“I… am.” She muttered. “And my memory is quite average, professor… But better than my brother’s, I think.”

“I should think so!” Háma piped up. “You actually read books.” He caught Haldir’s eye and looked back at his table.

“That…” The teacher looked at Éowyn. “… is quite a comfort to know. Yes… I would like to know…” He looked up. “How many of you enjoy reading?”

Many hands shot up in the air, mostly maidens, but quite a few lads as well. Gimli seemed to doubt a little and then called out to Haldir:

“Do picture books count? You know… where the stories are drawn and you do not have to read that much…?”

Haldir heaved a sigh.

“Yes, I suppose they count.”

“In that case, I could also put my hand up in the air if you know what I mean.” Háma muttered to Faramir, who looked back, surprised.

“Do you read many picture books?”

Háma sighed.

“I meant…” He closed his eyes. “Never mind, you are much too innocent to ever start a conversation with.”

Haldir did not look quite satisfied with the amount of hands in the air and ordered them to relax their arms, with a wave. He picked up the next book.

“This one contains many short plays, otherwise known as sketches.” He continued, opening the book and swishing through the pages as the class craned their necks. “We shall divide the class in small groups and perform these little plays during the next season. And finally…” He picked up yet another book. “… the last one is a theorical script about how to create your own play. We shall study it together and then you shall all write your own play for the end of the school year. As this is done in every class, the different years shall each decide which is the best play from a class that is not their own. The plays shall not be signed, therefore it will be a much fairer choice.”

An excited murmur broke out, that sounded like fun! The hobbits started chattering happily and Éowyn  muttered a small “yes!” underneath her breath. Gimli and Háma shared a look of despair which did not go unnoticed by Haldir, who frowned at them.

“Of course, I shall read all the plays first and only those who pass my judgement shall be held for selection.” He said, eyeing Háma suspiciously. “For I know that many students think it wise to use such an opportunity to… ah… turn the noble art of drama upside down.”

Háma sighed deeply and looked at Faramir, annoyed.

“He is out to get me.” He mouthed at his friend.

The bell rang suddenly and everyone scrambled to their feet, cheering on the end of classes for the day. Haldir picked up his books and looked at them so sternly that they all sat down quietly. Then, he moved towards the doorway, is long cloak billowing behind him while he muttered:

“You may now go.”

The students got up quietly, for the elf’s manner had subdued them, and trooped out into the corridor, where they divided into many directions. The small hobbit lads ran down to the yard for a game of hide and seek and some of the maidens followed. One of them, though, moved towards Faramir.

“Hey.” She said. He turned around and saw it was the hobbit maiden who had reproached Legolas and Tauriel earlier. Her hazel eyes held a strong look in them. “Faramir, is it not? I am Pearl Took. I was wondering if I could take one swift look at your History notes to compare them with mine…”

Faramir seemed surprised, but took out his leather bag and gave his papers to the hobbit maiden, who flipped them over to check something. She quickly gave them back with a curt smile.

“That is the date I was looking for…” She copied it onto her own notes. “Thank you.” She walked away, putting her own paper back into her woollen pouch. Faramir stared after her.

Háma laughed.

“She is scary.” He said. “And maybe she’s also your study soulmate…”

Faramir grinned, as they walked along through the corridor.

“You know? That would be nice… I could use someone to team up with in group essays…”

Háma gripped him by the neck.

“You are to team up with me.”

Faramir pushed him away, laughing.

“I see my brains are attractive… but they are not for sale…”

They went down the stairs, laughing, as they headed for the common room… When they actually reached it, they saw that the second years were already there, huddled around a gamestone that someone had brought in. Boromir and Aragorn were playing against each other, fighting inside the game with small realistic figures that looked like a man and an elf. Most of the second formers were cheering behind them.

Éowyn moved forward, in interest and Boromir winked at her.

“Want to try?” He asked, as she sat down on the floor next to him. Éowyn saw Aragorn staring and turned red.

“No, I can watch.” She muttered.

Éomer snorted.

“At home she would fight for the right to play…”

Éowyn narrowed her eyes.

“Yes, and I would win.” She blasted back at him, as everyone laughed.

Boromir threw a final stroke with his sword and Aragorn’s figure fell onto the ground, possibly dead. The lad sighed and stood up.

“Take my place, whoever wishes it…” He smiled. And he walked over towards a couch where Arwen and Saeltheria were sitting, planning the upcoming Leading Maidens’ try-outs. Éowyn could not help but feel sad at that moment, but she was soon distracted as Boromir handed her one of the gamestone controls.

“Come on, now is your chance to prove your valour. What character do you want to be?”

Éowyn smiled.

“The race of men.” She said. “For that is what I am.”

Boromir chose the figure for her and then made his own into an Orc. Everyone laughed and the game began.

Éowyn was a skilled player and Boromir was no match for her. After several attempts to slay her figure, he was beaten, and everyone cheered.

“You are good.” He laughed, ruffling her hair. “My, you are the little sister I never had.”

Somehow those words were heart-warming and Éowyn could not help but smile. She was very fond of Éomer, but ever since Théodred had died, they had started growing apart, which was strange… They had stuck together their whole life and had vowed never to let go. But their mourning for Théodred had changed them, and then Éomer had gone off to High School Rivendell the year before… Instead of a pillar to lean on they had started seeing each other as a rock in their way. Háma sometimes felt saddened at the relationship they had now; he still remembered the good times when the four of them ran about the barn with no worries above their heads.

Boromir stood up and stretched.

“I have to prepare for the rugby try-outs.” He said. He looked over at Aragorn. “Strider, help me.”

“Yes, captain.”

“I am not captain yet.”

They moved towards another table and started their work. Two Gondorian lads started playing at the gamestone and Éowyn turned to her maiden friends.

“What shall we do?”

Aendulas smiled.

“Oh Éowyn… We have Geography homework…”

Éowyn pulled a face.

“Fine, let us do it.” She muttered. “But afterwards, I need some exercise.”

“That is quite alright.” Aendulas smiled. “We shall let you out once the work here is done.”

Laughing, they moved to one of the tables and took out their papers and pens. Éowyn and Eydís sighed loudly when they saw that their writing was considerably less than Aendulas’ and Tauriel’s. They were both quite smart and hard-working. Aendulas had benefitted from the best education since birth and she knew much about the world. She also spoke fluent Sindarin, which was very useful indeed. Tauriel carried the wisdom of the elves, for even a mere Silvan was much more experienced in the outside world than the race of men… Both maidens finished their geography homework in no time whilst Éowyn grumbled all the way through. She did not think it difficult, it was just tedious for her and therefore, she could not concentrate as easily as the others. Eydís, on the other hand, had trouble remembering things so learning was not her biggest achievement. She was quite good in painting, though, as they saw her draw Professor Baggins all over her Geography homework.

“He really looks like that.” Aendulas smiled.

“It’s perfect.” Éowyn laughed. “Really, you should show him.”

“Not a chance in…” Eydís muttered something in Khudzul and kept on drawing. It was almost supper time and she thought it would be better to do her homework later.

 

                             *                      *                      *

 

Faramir, leaning against a pillar in the courtyard, observed how the shadows on the walls turned blue again, as they had done every evening so far. A soft breeze slightly played with his hair and he smiled. For some reason, the school felt like home, or better said, the home he had been looking for. As the wind moved on to the leaves in the trees above, he closed his eyes and listened to the sound of them dancing. He was quite alone in the courtyard now, as everyone was either in the common-room or at the game-fields. He looked around him again and wrapped his cloak firmly around his chest. The weather was starting to get very chilly indeed.

The bluish shadows turned violet and then darkened steadily, causing many of the students to head back to the school. Faramir waited for the troops to pass and then entered the building himself, closing the oaken doors behind him. Lord Elrond’s master of keys was already waiting, with a frown on his face and Faramir, looking slightly apologetic, sped off towards the staircase.

The common-room was noisy and bore the inevitable signs of the union of first and second years: many of the couch pillows were laying on the floor, with papers and books strew all over them. A large group of lads was sitting behind the gamestone, shouting excitedly. The windows were open and the drapes were hanging loosely around them, as the breeze took them. Many students had quickly learned to find music on their smartírs and several different tunes were all blending together in the overall noise. Faramir grimaced and left the place without even entering; he would go to his dorm and read a little in bed.

On the other hand, Legolas seemed to be enjoying himself in the noisy common-room. He had engaged in a board game with Tauriel and Eydís, and he was having a lot of fun. The young dwarf maiden was starting to feel comfortable around him, as he seemed slightly more human and less elvish when he laughed with them. She smiled. Maybe there was still hope for the haughty son of Thranduil.

Éowyn and Aendulas were huddled on he couch next to Boromir, who was planning the rugby try-outs for the first-years. Aragorn had scurried off with no intention to help, so he had taken the task upon himself.

“Someone has to do it.” He said. “This does not mean I shall be selected captain or anything…”

Aendulas smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

“You boast about your country and yet you do not boast about yourself.” She said. “You should be more like me and boast about both.”

Éowyn, who had been staring at the paper where Boromir had written his tactics, frowned.

“Say, Boromir…” She said, suddenly, making the other two look up. “I think you should start with the warm-up before the stretching…”

Boromir looked at her, astonished.

“I should say that it is wise to stretch first and then warm-up.” He muttered, looking at his paper.

“It is…” Éowyn explained. “But in order to stretch efficiently, our limbs should already be warm. Weather it is a walking round or a soft running round, you should definitely do that first. And then the stretching. And then the real warm-up run.”

Boromir looked at Éowyn, surprised, but that did not stop him from smiling.

“You truly know about these things, Éowyn.” He said. “You must have spent a lot of time playing rugby with your kin.”

“I did.” She smiled. “I may not be beautiful as Aendulas or tall as Tauriel… I do not have Eydís’ eyes or the brains of your brother… But there is one thing I excel at and that is rugby.” She sighed and then looked at him. “Boromir.” She uttered. “I wish to come to the try-outs.”

Boromir sat motionless but Aendulas smiled.

“Why not, Éowyn?” She asked. “You may be the first maiden to engage in such a sport, but that does not mean you should not do it. Why you’d want to, I cannot imagine, but it is surely your choice…”

Boromir sighed.

“The reason why I’m in doubt is because of our coach.” He muttered. “He does not regard women in the same way I do. He cannot stop you from coming to try-outs, but he may very well be unkind at them.” He looked at her. “Éowyn. You are fair and lively. I would not see you pained at the try-outs.”

Éowyn stared at him in silence. She knew he was just being kind and protective, like her brother, but on a gentler way. She wondered if he truly believed she was a good player or simply had no faith at all. She stood up and arched her back.

“I shall think about it.” She muttered. “I am off to my dorm.” And she walked away, leaving Boromir quite worried. He turned to Aendulas.

“Before you call me every misogynist insult you can think of, please consider who our coach is.” He told her. “Beleg is not the kind of person to accept maidens on his team.”

Aendulas sighed.

“I know.” She said. “And I also know that you cannot go against him. But this is not how things should be… not through Elrond’s eyes, anyway… Every team in the school is made out of lads and maidens… except for the rugby team.” She stood up. “I should get my beauty sleep now… Goodnight, Boromir.” And with that she left the room with her usual elegance, her long brown hair swishing behind her. Boromir could not help but think she did not need her beauty sleep.

 

                              *                      *                      *

 

The rest of the week proceeded on an ordinary way, although it was interesting for the first years to experience the different classes. They warmed up to Miss Baggins, who taught them Art and Music, for she was tiny and sweet, but very stern if necessary. They could not help enjoying Radagast’s classes of Natural Science, for he was hectic and not much of a teacher, but he could explain the most unknown things about animals and plants and cared so deeply for living creatures that the students could not help liking him. They also enjoyed alchemy, taught also by Lord Elrond, for they were allowed to melt different matter and experiment as much as they wanted, as long as they did not set the school on fire. But the brief lessons of physical education left the students with mixed feelings, as Dwalin, their teacher, seemed to have sworn an oath to grind them into the ground from the very first day. Some students, like Háma and Éowyn, had no trouble running and jumping over obstacles, but the dwarves had certain difficulties when it came to making big leaps. As for some of the others, like Faramir and Aendulas, they simply found it tedious.

“I was not made to run around and get hot and tired.” Aendulas protested. “I am a noblewoman from the court of Gondor. I do not run.”

Dwalin had answered by making her run around the field for the rest of the lesson.

As the week continued and the try-outs drew near, Damrod also announced the form captains, a happy smile on his face. He chose Boromir for the first and second years and the lad could not help but feel very proud indeed. Aragorn was to assist him, for Damrod wanted to make him grow a sense of responsibility. But Aragorn had simply shrugged and patted a radiant Boromir on the back.

“You deserve it.”

Faramir smiled, feeling joy for his brother, but he was also worried, as his father had sent him a letter on his palantír. In there he placed his strong demand that his youngest son should assist at the ruby try-outs and make the team. Faramir knew that he would only cause trouble and make his brother ashamed of him, not to mention Denethor. He wished he did not have to do that. He sighed deeply as everyone cheered around Boromir… What would lay in store for him at the try-outs?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT CHAPTER: THE TRY-OUTS
> 
> You can guess: the infamous rugby try-outs. Will Éowyn make the team? And what about Faramir? Also, what about the lacrosse team, the dwarf-boxing and the Leading Maidens? please stay tuned for the enxt chapter, you cutlets! :D


	7. The Try-Outs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally get to see the rubgy try-outs. Will Éowyn make the team?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it took me a while to write this... I'm so sorry. I got this job in October that took a lot of my time, and I took up another job in November that also makes me work hard, but at least I'm enjoying it now. I will try to keep HSR up regularly, though. Anyhow, you can all thank my friend for her support and her feedback... and her love for rugby he he he.
> 
> New characters: Borlas (a Gondorian jerk) and Hithu, from Dôl Amrôth. Borlas actually exists, he's Beregond's other son. Hithu, I made up, and his name means *fog* in Sindarin.

**Chapter Seven**

** The Try-Outs **

 

_This is the day my quest begins; the quest to make my team bigger, braver and stronger than before. We shall fight hard under my word and I promise I will do my best to make father proud. I am worried about Faramir, though. I do not want him to get hurt today._

The morning dew had not yet left the tips of the grass when the drums started sounding in the game fields. The try-outs had finally begun and there was no way to hide the excitement that news provoked. All sports were popular at High School Rivendell, but rugby was important on a whole different level: everything revolved around the team and the rugby try-outs were one of the greatest things to watch each year.

In the centre of the field stood Boromir, accompanied by Damrod and Beleg, their coach. The young Gondorian lad could not help but wonder at the importance of his position: together with the other two, he was in control of the school’s rugby team.

Every year one of the second years was chosen to be the lower school’s captain and the sports captain, in this case Damrod, was in control of the higher school. Between the two of them, they had to train their individual classes and also plan the school team’s matches together. It was a great job and Boromir was very proud, even though he was to share his position slightly with Strider.

Where was Strider? Boromir looked around, annoyed, and saw that he was near the Leading Maidens, chatting amiably with Arwen and Saeltheria. The lad sighed and hoped his friend would get his senses together and help him with his job. After all, Damrod wanted him to find a little responsibility…

Slowly and quietly, a whole group of students came marching downhill, flocking into the seats or entering the field for the try-outs. As they came closer, they weren’t quiet at all and Boromir remembered last year with a smile, when he had been one of those mousy first-years, crying excitedly and hoping to be let on the team. He studied them. There were a few sturdy Gondorian lads who looked like they could handle a good run… Suddenly his heart skipped a beat, for Éowyn stood there between Háma and another lad. He gulped and felt a strange kind of fear, seeing her frail body in the midst of all those burly first-years. He wondered why he was acting so brotherly over her… she had Éomer to do that after all, and he had his own kin to watch over.

Speaking of which… where was Faramir? He squinted around the field but there was no sign of him… Father would be so angry if he did not show up. Boromir sighed and moved towards Damrod.

“Have you seen my brother?” He asked, a worried tilt in his voice. Damrod shook his head with a frown.

“Maybe he’s still changing.”

The students who wished to try out for the rugby team wore their physical education clothes. They were shorter than their normal robes, and much more comfortable to move in. One of the Gondorian lads moved towards Éowyn with a sly grin on his face.

“They did not tell me the horse maidens had such legs…” He said, candidly. Both Éowyn and Háma turned towards him with a disgusted look on their faces. He looked half-surprised. “What? Would you not consider a man of the race of Númenor?”

Háma gave a loud snort at the same time that Éowyn exclaimed “as if!” and they moved away from the lad.

“That was… Disturbing.” Háma muttered.

“Almost… like my brother…” Éowyn shuddered.

Háma popped out his chest and started imitating the lad.

“Would you not consider a man of the race of Númenor?” He drawled. “Oh Éowyn… wild shieldmaiden of my heart! How can a barbarian like you not fall for a beautiful Gondorian Peacock such as me? Oh, the pain, the anguish…”

Éowyn doubled up laughing but when she stood up she bumped into Faramir, who somehow had appeared behind them after leaving the changing rooms. He looked slightly disgruntled and completely out of place wearing physical education clothes in a rugby field.

“Oh…” She mumbled. “Excuse me.”

Faramir sighed.

“As a Gondorian Peacock, I forgive you.” He muttered.

“You heard that?” Háma was grinning. “We were talking about this Gondorian Éomer type who seemed to like Éowyn’s le…”

“Alright!” Éowyn cut through, quite annoyed.

Faramir laughed a little.

“Take no notice of Borlas.” He said. “That is just the way he acts… His brother Bergil is much more sane, I assure you… It is truly a pity that his father won’t let him assist at Rivendell…” He moved away.

Éowyn turned to Háma.

“What was that?”

Háma smiled.

“He’s nice, once you get to know him.”

At the center of the field, Boromir clapped his hands, trying to draw everyone’s attention. He succeeded, of course, as he had a natural leadership built inside him. Damrod smiled, feeling just a little bit proud seeing his star player taking control over his team. He glanced at Faramir, who was fumbling with his robes looking very out of place indeed. Damrod felt very sorry for the lad; he had known the two brothers for a very long time and Faramir had always avoided any type of physical activity… whenever he could. But Denethor could not help being persistent in wanting both sons to give everything on the rugby field. Damrod sighed, wondering if forcing Faramir to try out for the team was really the best thing… He had seen the lad attempting to play before and he was quite sure rugby was not his thing.

Boromir grinned around at the bunch of first years and with a calm voice, proceeded to give a small speech:

“Little ones…” He sounded fraternal and proud. “This is your moment. I want you to show me all you can do.”

And with those words, the High School Rugby try-outs officially began, sending the crowd cheering. Arwen and the Leading Maidens tumbled through the air, big smiles on their faces, as the nervous first years came forward and Damrod divided them into small groups to show off their skills. He led Háma, Faramir and Éowyn towards Boromir with a smile.

“Start these up for condition.” He said. “I’ll take that group over there to see their high kicks and Artamir will make those little ones run.”

Boromir nodded as Damrod walked away and looked at them. He smiled but then he caught sight of Éowyn and he went a little pale.

“Éowyn?” He mumbled. “What are you doing here?”

The young Rohirric maiden flushed but then frowned.

“Should I not have come?” She said, with all the dignity she could master.

“Well… I…” Boromir gulped. “This… I… I already told you last night, Éowyn, I think this might be too rough for you.”

Háma came forward.

“Too rough? Boromir, I know maidens do not play in official teams, but for pity’s sake, Éowyn can take being in the school team.”

Boromir sighed.

“Do not take this team slightly, Háma. We are quite official. This is the Rivendell High Team, everybody knows us. Even the other schools in Rivendell come to our try-outs, to form part of our team… We are the best here, and we take on schools like the Academy of Mordor, and they are no joke… It’s too dangerous, Éowyn.”

She looked at him, with a face so full of disappointment that Boromir felt his heart sink.

“So what you say…” Éowyn muttered. “… is that I cannot even participate in the try-outs because I was not born with a…?”

“Alright!” Boromir interrupted. “Do the try-outs. It’s the least I can do for you. But the coach has never let a maiden on the team and I doubt he ever will.” He looked at her. “Éowyn, you had better do the try-outs of your life if you want a chance to be on the team.”

She nodded curtly.

“Thank you.” She mumbled.

They walked to the centre of the pitch, where Boromir had prepared some weights and an obstacle course. The captains at High School Rivendell had always done the try-outs that way, to find valour in every single detail.

Éowyn and Háma completed the obstacle course in no time, the later narrowly beating the score by a few seconds. Faramir had more trouble and could not bring himself to jump a two-feet tall fence. Boromir sighed.

“Little brother!” He exclaimed. “Bring the strength out of your guts! Use the raw power I know you have!”

But Faramir’s raw power just wouldn’t come out and he slumped down on the grass, panting.

“I’m done.” He said. “You can leave me here until it’s all over.”

Boromir walked towards him and pulled him up. He was about to scold him when he saw the fatigue in his brother’s eyes and the trembling of his limbs. He suddenly felt very guilty for the state he was in and he clenched his brother’s shoulder, overcome with remorse. What was he thinking? Faramir was no rugby-player… He would never succeed at any form of physical activity… Yet he was trying so hard just to please him and their father. Boromir felt an odd swell of emotion coming up and tried to shake it away as quickly as possible. He looked at his brother.

“Faramir…” He sighed. “Leave this field, go change and rest. You should not be doing this, I know it is not your thing. I’m sorry for making you…”

Faramir gulped.

“But father…”

“I will take responsibility.” Boromir said. “You just study hard and be top of the class, as you always have been. That’s your place and not mine. Nobody can be perfect…” He chuckled. “Dad may not realise it now, but between the two of us, he has the perfect son.”

Faramir smiled softly and then turned around and left. Damrod saw him go and came over, looking at Boromir questiongly.

“He… just isn’t a player.” Boromir smiled. “And that’s quite alright.”

Damrod laughed, squeezing the lad’s shoulder.

“I’m glad you think so.” He said. “Seeing poor Faramir suffer on the pitch is not my idea of fun.” He grimaced. “I would be paying attention to that fair-haired Rohirric lad if I were you.”

Boromir sighed.

“Damrod, you should really consider wearing your glasses in the field.” He mumbled. “Éowyn is not a lad.”

Damrod spat out all the water he had been attempting to drink from his bottle. He turned towards the maiden while taking a pair of huge glasses out of his pocket and put them on. His eyes widened.

“Oh my…” He said. “Get her out of here before Beleg sees her.”

Boromir turned towards him.

“I promised her she could do the try-outs. And you just said yourself that I should pay attention…”

“But that was before I knew she was a maiden!” Damrod interrupted. “Boromir! You know just as well as I that we cannot let her on the team with us. Beleg would never allow it and she could get seriously hurt! What were you thinking?”

“Please, Damrod!” Boromir begged. “Just let her do the try-outs. I promise I won’t let anything happen to her…”

Damrod sighed.

“I suppose nothing bad will happen…” He mumbled. “But you know she has no chance, do you not?”

Boromir looked away.

“I… know…”

He wondered why he felt so guilty saying those words.

Only a handful of first-years made it trough the first round and Éowyn was one of them, a look of pride upon her face. Háma stood next to her, with a sly grin.

“That will show these Gondorians.” He muttered. “Our maidens play better than them.”

“And why should we not.” Éowyn muttered back. “It takes a person to succeed at something, not a male or female.”

They stood next to Borlas, who to their chagrin had passed the first round, and two other students, who were Gondorian as well. One had sandy coloured hair and was quite burly. He grinned at them.

“Good job.” He told Háma. “And you too, even if you are a maiden.” Éowyn scowled at him. “I am Hithu, from Gondor.”

“You don’t look very Gondorian.” Háma boldly prodded his thick arms.

Hithu laughed.

“I am from Dôl Amrôth!” He exclaimed. “We look a little different.”

“…just as stupid…” Éowyn grumbled under her breath, and Háma gave her a little push.

“Ah true, you speak like Aendulas.”

“I know Aendulas.”

“Everybody knows Aendulas.” Borlas came forth. “It would seem she was leading the White Tree Cult…”

“What is that?” Háma asked, incredulous.

“A group or council of our country’s young ones.” The other Gondorian replied, proudly. “All of us whose fathers are in the court get to be official members. It is all about good families.”

Éowyn and Háma sniggered, looking at each other.

“No wonder Aendulas acts like a leader.” Háma laughed. “She truly has to be the most conservative Gondorian in Middle Earth…”

Borlas, Hithu and the other lad burst out laughing.

“You have no idea.” Borlas said. “She leads our court with an iron fist.”

Suddenly Boromir appeared behind them with a grin.

“Are you talking about Aendulas?” He was smiling. Éowyn saw the look and sniggered even more.

“We were.” Borlas stood up straight. “Captain, my captain.”

Boromir laughed and waved him off.

“I just came to tell you that in order to decide the final members, we are going to play a little game… you five against five of the second years.”

The first years looked at each other, suddenly nervous. Borlas frowned and stared at Boromir.

“Is that even fair? You are older, you have more experience playing together and we have a maiden on our team!”

Boromir held up a hand to refrain Éowyn from speaking back and sighed.

“Borlas… this game will not determine your score. Instead, it will show us how much you want the place in the team. You will not be competing against us, you will be competing against each other and your inner selves. I want to see you fight.”

The first years gulped, but then nodded, as they left the centre of the field in order to get their formal attire. The High School Rivendell team played with protection, therefore the students were required to wear helmets, and shoulder and breast protection. When they had strapped everything on, it truly seemed they were wearing armor in order to go off to battle.

As they stood face to face with Boromir, Aragorn, Éomer and two other second years, Háma and Éowyn shared a look through their helmets.

“We are doing this Edoras style.” Háma whispered. “You know you and I can beat Éomer’s backside anytime we want.”

Éowyn smiled, glad to have at least one person supporting her. But just as she was thinking exactly that, she heard a voice from the seats above screaming her name. She looked up and could not help but grin broadly under her helmet, for up in the stands stood her maiden friends, waving at her frenetically. Tauriel, the tallest, looked almost like a Leading Maiden, her long red hair dancing around her as she held her arms up in a cheer. Eydís was banging on the seats, whistling and Aendulas clapped majestically, inclining her head. Éowyn waved back and set her mind to the game.

It was not like a match in Edoras. It was easier because Boromir did not make it difficult for them. As Háma was almost in constant possession of the rugby ball, he could pass it quite frequently to Éowyn, who had trouble getting it from her other teammates. The two Rohirric youngsters scored many goals and Boromir felt very happy indeed. When the game finally ended, he took council with Damrod and Beleg, the coach.

“We can only choose three, can we not?” He asked. “I would… recommend Háma and Éowyn… they were clearly…”

Beleg laughed very quietly, sitting almost motionless. Boromir looked up at him, worried.

“Coach?”

Beleg left both his hands resting on the table where they sat at, beside the playing fields. His sneer was almost palpable.

“My dear Boromir.” He whispered. “I had you for a rational captain, not a fool. I shall have no maidens on this team.”

Boromir sighed deeply and tried once more.

“Coach… Éowyn is truly skilled…”

“Let me put it this way.” Beleg stood up. “Háma, Hithu and Borlas.” And with that, he walked away.

Boromir sighed deeply and Damrod patted him on the back.

“It is only your feeling of guilt towards her that led you to make such a petition.” He told him. “You know deep inside that this would be too dangerous for her…” And he too, left.

Boromir glanced at the hopeful first years in the field and sighed. Part of him was glad that Éowyn would not put herself in danger but he very much dreaded having to tell her she was not on the team. He started walking towards them, as slow as he could master, trying to find the right words to say without hurting her feelings.

As he stepped on the green grass, the first years looked up, a little shaky, a little nervous, just as he had been last year. Boromir sighed and walked on towards them, wondering if it had really been a good decision to make him team captain. Somehow, he felt he could not handle this part of the task.

“Little ones…” He began, but his voice croaked a little. He sighed once more. “Háma… Hithu…” His eyes met with Éowyn’s for a moment and he looked away, quickly, feeling ashamed. “… and Borlas.”

The two Gondorians cheered loudly and clapped each other on the back, but Háma stared at Boromir, incredulous.

“Éowyn…” Boromir looked at her. Her face was ashen with disappointment and her limbs were trembling, although she tried to control it. “I really do think you are a good player, but I cannot allow you to be on this team. I am sorry.” He turned around and walked away towards the stands, where he saw Strider waiting for him.

“Why were you not at the council?” Boromir asked, angrily. “You are co-captain, you know… You could have helped me.”

“Sorry.” Aragorn answered, quite honestly. “But I think Beleg hates me. Also, I could not have helped you with Éowyn.”

“You could have stood next to me as I told her the news.” Boromir grumbled, looking back.

“And then what? Share the blame? Beleg forced you to not take her, did he not? It is Beleg she should wage her war against.” Aragorn stared at the field, where now only Éowyn remained. “If she really wants to play, she will find a way.”

Boromir started walking away towards the school, following the stream of students who had come and see the try-outs.

“I will see you later.” He muttered, walking up the path. But he could not move two steps before Aendulas had blocked his way, her arms crossed over her chest. He knew that look and felt his heart sink even more.

“Before you speak.” He began. “I already warned you this would happen.”

Aendulas stood there, motionless.

“I heard you did not really put up a fight against Beleg.” She said, calmly.

“Do you want to do that for me?” Boromir snapped. “You know him. Also, I agree. She may be a wonderful player but is she as tall? Is she as strong?”

“Oh please…” Aendulas uncrossed her arms. “Is Aragorn as strong as you? Are you as skilled as Damrod? But you still made the team. I am out of here.” And she walked up the path, where Eydís was waiting.

 

 

                           *                *                *

 

Tauriel entered the playing field and walked towards Éowyn, who was sitting in the middle, staring at the morning sun. Everyone else was gone and she had sent Háma away as well. It was a little chilly and she was shivering.

Tauriel sat down next to her and they remained like so in silence, for a while. Then, the elven maiden looked up.

“It seems there is a lot to change in this school after all.”

Éowyn smiled a little.

“I know I am good.” She muttered. “I just wish they could see me as a player and not as a maiden…”

“I do believe there must be a way to show them.” Tauriel stood up. “We were watching in the stands and your skills were far greater than that Borlas… Who is he anyway? Is he even in our class?”

“I have seen him before…” Éowyn sighed. “Maybe he sat behind us… our class is quite big, I learn about new students everyday…”

“Yet you are quite famous.” Tauriel laughed. “Everyone knows you and your brother… and Legolas… You are sons and daughters of kings…”

“Well that won’t make Beleg change his mind.” Éowyn stood up as well. She looked at Tauriel. “The Leading Maiden’s try-outs… Are they not today?”

Tauriel sighed.

“This afternoon… At the same time as the non-student rugby try-outs. But I’m not sure if I should go…”

“Oh Tauriel…” Éowyn laughed. “Dancing and tumbling is something you could surely do… Also, did Arwen not tell you to come? She will want to turn you into one of them…”

“I’m just a Silvan, remember?” Tauriel shrugged. “I have no idea why she invited me to come.”

Éowyn suddenly froze, for something had just dawned on her.

“Tauriel… what did you say…? About the rugby try-outs?”

The elf maiden looked surprised.

“The non-student try-outs… you know… where students from other schools in Rivendell come to try out for the High School Rivendell team?”

Éowyn’s mind had just started racing on an alarming level. An idea was starting to build up in her head and she wondered if she could put it into action. She looked at Tauriel and smiled.

“Tauriel… You go to those try-outs. Cheer your heart out and win a spot, for you truly deserve it. There is no point in wishing something if you do not try your utmost, and this is the one way you can do it. If Arwen does not pick you, do not be saddened… only you know your true value and no one in this world can rob you of it.” She clapped her friend on the shoulder. “These words are not only directed to you, but also to me. We shall not go down without a fight. We are not just maidens or Silvan elfs… we are two strong people who deserve a chance.”

Tauriel’s face twitched. She had lived many years in a place where she had learned to show little emotion, Legolas being her only friend. But Éowyn’s words touched her heart and she felt a sudden lump in her throat.

“Éowyn…”

“Don’t.”

They laughed and Tauriel hugged her swiftly. Then, she said, a twinkle in her eye:

“We shall both need good luck for the try-outs this afternoon.”

Éowyn did not need to ask how Tauriel knew about her plans, for elves tended to be pretty intuitive.

As they walked back towards the school, it got chillier, for the sun was hidden by the trees that towered over the path. Some of them hung so low that the branches brushed their hair, making them walk through a rainbow of coloured leaves. Some of Elrond’s guard were already busy tying the upper branches together, to make it easier to walk through. Éowyn though it was nice, doing that instead of cutting them down.

When they arrived at the school and were crossing the courtyard, they saw Aendulas and Eydís walking towards them, worried. Aendulas gave Éowyn a short one-armed hug and Eydís squeezed her shoulder, both their faces serious.

“I’m alright.” Éowyn smiled. “This is not over.”

“Well, I am truly sorry.” Aendulas sighed. “But you know… Boromir was forced to make this decision by Beleg… He did recommend you at first.”

Éowyn looked up, feeling suddenly glad.

“Really?”

“His mind works on strange ways.” Aendulas continued. “Party, he worries… partly, he is fair… and then, he is also partly easily intimidated by his superiors… But later we should both speak with him, or he will smile no more…”

“That sounds dramatic.” Eydís laughed. “Hey… lunch anyone?”

The four maidens walked inside, chatting merrily as they wondered what kind of greens they would be served that day.

 

 

                                  *                *                *

 

“I can do this.” Éowyn, hidden in the little wooden house beside the playing fields, was changing into her rugby clothes. It was a place where they kept buckets to water the fields and other objects for a similar use. She knew no student ever came in there and it could be locked from the inside as well.

“I can do this.” She repeated, removing her school uniform slowly and staring at herself in the old dirty mirror that hung there on a wall. She was thin, yet athletic, with more muscle than any other maiden in her year, except maybe Eydís. But that did not hide her inevitable curves, so she wrapped a piece of cloth tightly around her chest. As she fastened it, she grimaced, for it was not at all comfortable.

“It’s only for now.” She muttered. “Just to show them. Only for these try-outs.”

She pulled on her rugby uniform and fastened her shoulder protection. Her body could now pass on for that of a lad, or at least, for now. She put on her rugby helmet and hid her uniform carefully in a wooden box there. She would retrieve it later.

She walked onto the field, proudly, just in time to hear Boromir’s encouraging words to the students that had come from different schools.

“You have a chance to be part of a very big team.” He said. “We shall take only three, but remember… everyone has a chance.”

Éowyn joined the group, remaining hidden at the back.

“Yes…” She muttered under her breath. “Everyone.”

She had no trouble completing the obstacle course again and as everyone came from different schools, they were all wearing their helmets as well, so she did not stand out on that way. She did however, stand out in another way, for Boromir, Damrod and Beleg praised her skills loudly.

It was different this time. Her friends were not there. Only Tauriel knew remotely what she was doing. Everyone thought she was a lad. But Éowyn felt more determined than ever, and when they finally had to play the game against the second years, she showed amazing skills and strength. She stood alone, Háma was not with her this time… Boromir’s face was not worried or protective, it showed awe. She felt powerful and in control, and full of life. When it was finally over, Boromir and Damrod both came towards her and clapped her on the back.

“You, lad… what school do you come from?” Damrod asked, excitedly. Luckily, Éowyn had done her research. She cleared her throat and tried to answer in the deepest voice possible.

“The Eiliant Academy, near the river’s end.” She said, hoarsely.

“Great, excellent.” Damrod looked at Boromir. “What do you think?”

Boromir smiled.

“I say we let him on the team, I have not yet seen skills like these today.” He looked at Beleg. “Am I right?”

“Yes.” Beleg eyed Éowyn curiously. “Let him on the team.” And with that, he walked away.

Éowyn could not believe what she was hearing… She was on the team! She had made it! Then, she remembered she had only done that for show and that she meant to take off her helmet and show them who she really was after they took her. But she found she could not do that. She stood rooted in the spot, and the words could not come out of her mouth.

What if she did not tell them? What if she never told them? If they had not found out yet, would they ever? They clearly did not see that she was a maiden… Also, it felt good to be admired and praised for her skills… Éowyn looked up. Yes, she would keep this going for a little longer at least…

“Well, do you have a name?” Damrod smiled, as he held out the team list.

Éowyn smiled and looked directly at them.

“My name is Durnhelm.”

 

                                        *                *                *

When Éowyn entered the common-room that afternoon, she sought for Tauriel but could not find her. She walked over to Eydís and Aendulas, who sat by the window, playing a game of chess.

“Have you seen Tauriel? How did the try-outs go?”

Aendulas sighed deeply.

“You had better go talk to her.” She answered. “She’s in your dorm.”

Éowyn ran towards the hallway where the dorms were and entered hers, finding Tauriel sitting on the windowsill. She was staring outside, sadness in her eyes.

“I knew I should not have done it…” She whispered, without turning her head. “I should have known Arwen would want to place me in ridicule in front of everyone…”

Éowyn sat down next to her.

“What happened?”

Tauriel sighed.

“She told me to show her some Mirkwood dances, right before we entered the room where the try-outs were. Inside, were all the school elves she controls… after I did my dance, she asked me what I had just done and I answered that I had done what she asked me to…” Tauriel grimaced. “I should have known she was up to something, for she denied it and everyone laughed at me. Then she told me I was a mere Silvan and that obviously I could not come up with a better dance. So I left.”

Éowyn was shaking in anger.

“Who does she think she is?” She exclaimed.

“Arwen Undomiel, daughter of Elrond, granddaughter of Galadriel.” Tauriel smiled. “And then, there’s me… no wonder.”

“Tauriel! I hope you know that you are worth far more than that… that…” Éowyn growled. “That… canker-blossom!”

Tauriel burst out laughing.

“Canker-blossom?”

“Whatever.” Éowyn stared out of the window.

“What about you?” Tauriel asked.

“Oh, I succeeded.” Éowyn smiled. “But you are going to have to keep your mouth shut about it, Tauriel… for I’m not done yet. And neither are you, by the way… we shall make Arwen pay!”

Tauriel smiled.

“I’m glad you made it.” She said. “But don’t worry about me… I might try out for the lacrosse-team with Legolas. It’s more me, anyway.”

The two maidens sat in silence for a while, hugging their knees. After a few minutes, there came a knock on the door and it opened. It was Faramir. He held a note in his hands.

“Yes?” Éowyn asked.

“From Boromir.” Faramir gave it to her. “I think he is trying to apologize for the try-outs… But maybe you should talk to him, he is not the best writer.”

Éowyn stood up and opened the note. From side to side, in a ghastly handwriting, it said: I am sorry. She laughed.

“He could have sent it with his palantír, at least it would have been easier to read.” She looked at Faramir. “I shall go talk to him, but there are no hard feelings, believe me. I know it was Beleg.”

Faramir turned around towards the door.

“You heard her!”

Boromir came in, slightly worried. Éowyn laughed.

“So you send your little brother to do the filthy job?”

“He owed me.” Boromir ruffled her hair.

Tauriel smiled.

“You settle things as easily as a couple of lads.” She said.

“Oh, indeed.” Éowyn grinned. “Indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Enderi
> 
> Days go by and Éowyn struggles pretending to be a lad on the rugby team. Boromir and Aendulas have their little problems. The students are looking forward to Enderi, the *three Middle Days*.


	8. Enderi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Half-Term* arrives at HSR, also known as Enderi. Boromir decides to throw a huge party in his dorm and many of the students grow closer to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a while to write and upload this chapter because I'm quite busy at the moment, trying to balance my new job with a certain amount of work I have to produce in order to get accepted at a certain academy. But I have no intention of abandoning High School Rivendell, so the chapters will keep coming~ 
> 
> You will find a few odd words which I have placed there to sound like old-English insults and swearwords. Here are the words and their meanings: saddle-goose (fool, idiot), gadzooks (a possible equivalent to: Jesus!), bespowler (someone who is constantly spitting), wandought (used for *impotent* lol), whiffle-whaffle (indecisive, wasting time), sard! (fuck!) 
> 
> I shall place the links of the old-English swearwords and insults pages down below, along with the proper definition of Enderi:
> 
> Old English Insults  
> http://mentalfloss.com/article/61819/42-old-english-insults
> 
> Old English Swearwords  
> http://www.bustle.com/articles/61868-9-obscure-old-swear-words-we-should-bring-back-consarn-it
> 
> Enderi  
> http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Enderi
> 
> Reckoning of Rivendell (calendar)  
> http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Reckoning_of_Rivendell
> 
> Tumblr:  
> http://highschoolrivendell.tumblr.com/
> 
> Blog:  
> http://highschoolrivendell.blogspot.com.es/
> 
> email:  
> highschoolrivendell@gmail.com
> 
> youtube:  
> coming soon  
> https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCw9CRVCR7q6sOG5FRnnsJbg
> 
> Thank you, and enjoy!!!
> 
> Thumbs up to my friend Floba05 for shipping PearlEydís (?) <3

**Chapter Eight**

** Enderi **

****

_Gondor! Gondor, between the Mountains and the Sea!  
West Wind blew there; the light upon the Silver Tree_

_I cannot concentrate on my reading for I can only think about the warmth of the summers near the sea and the touch of his hand on mine. Many a year have we spent that time together and it was strange to be far from him for so long. But now we dwell in Rivendell both and we look upon each other’s faces every single day. He acts different around his friends, yet so do I._  
  


Aendulas sighed as she got out of bed that morning, and pulled a cloak around her nightgown. The days were getting chillier and she did not want to catch a cold.

Her clothes under one arm, she headed through the corridor towards the bathroom they shared with the second years. A few students were already there, getting ready for the morning. She was surprised, as it was a Saturday, and there were no classes, but then she remembered some of the maidens liked to exercise early every morning. She shivered in disgust.

“Good morning, Aendulas.” Tauriel appeared from behind one of the washing-basins, a grin on her face. “How come you’re up this early?”

Aendulas smiled, leaving her clothes on the stone benches beside the wall. Tauriel was one of those maidens who loved exercising in the morning.

“I could not sleep. Besides, I have to write an important piece for the _Weekly Anorian_ … as an important member of the White Tree Cult, I am under the obligation of conceiving some lines about our fair country every month or so…”

Tauriel sighed.

“Alright, have fun with that.” She laughed. “I am going for a run with Éowyn.”

Aendulas smiled.

“Have fun with that as well.” She said.

As Tauriel left, Aendulas walked over to the shower baths, each separated by a wall and a curtain. She could not help but feel thankful for the curtain as she utterly dreaded unclothing in front of her fellow maidens. Why, she did not know, but the mere thought was too uncomfortable to imagine.

She slipped out of her nightgown quickly and headed into one of the showers, turning it on and letting the warm water stream over her body. Aendulas trembled, for she was easily cold, and turned the knob for more heat. Soon she could not see anything around her because of the amount of steam she had produced, but that was just how she liked it.

The young Gondorian maiden dipped her hands in the small wooden pots of soap she always brought with her, mixed with oils and herbs. She rubbed them over her body and then massaged her head in order to wash her hair. She could not stand it if it looked filthy. She could not tolerate anything less than perfect.

When she got out of the shower, more maidens were streaming in, so she grabbed her clothes from the bench and ran back to her room in her nightgown. Aendulas sighed as she pulled her clothes on with no one around except a snoring Eydís.

“You know…” The dwarf maiden said, a while later, as Aendulas was already leaving the room. “…there’s nothing to be ashamed about showing your skin to other maidens. Have we all not the same features?”

Aendulas turned around, her hand on the doorknob.

“Have we?” She asked. “My chest is too flat, my legs look like twigs and mostly my face looks as if I never had a night’s sleep. No, Eydís… I cannot show myself in nothing but my skin in public… My whole sense of self-respect would disappear.”

And with that, she left the room, leaving Eydís worried and confused. Aendulas had never spoken like that before.

 

*                *                *

 

“Just a few more days and it will be Enderi!!!” Legolas said, merrily, as he slammed his hot cocoa on the table. Some of the first and second years had gone out that morning and were at their favourite Rohirric pub. The barman was much nicer to them now, but still refused to sell them any kind of spirits.

“What the hell is that?” Gimli asked, from across the table. “Some happy elvish holiday to commemorate their shiny hair?”

The lads guffawed as Legolas turned pink and glared angrily at the dwarf.

“No.” He said, pointedly. “But now I won’t tell you. Hah.”

Gimli mimicked a face of sorrow.

“Please, my heart is breaking because of you.”

Boromir and Éomer banged their fists on the table, laughing. Háma whistled. Faramir, who was reading a book in the corner, sighed.

“Enderi, or *Middle Days*, in the Common Tongue, is a period in between Yávië and Quellë, so it connects us with the end of autumn. This figures in the Calendar of…”

Boromir leaned over and covered his mouth.

“Little brother, do not give me a headache.” He grinned. “What he means is that we celebrate the annual Enderi Feast.”

Háma looked up, interested.

“Is that when everyone drinks the whole day?” He asked, excited. “I recall Éomer telling us about it.”

Everyone laughed.

“Little first years.” Boromir smiled. “You shall have the time of your lives.”

At that moment, Éowyn and Tauriel entered the pub, and not seeing the lads, headed towards the bar. The barman greeted Éowyn merrily in Rohirric and served them hot cocoa as well.

“We should ask the maidens to join.” Boromir grinned. “HEY ÉOWYN! TAURIEL!”

The two maidens spun around and then grinned, picking up their mugs and walking towards them, looking for a place to sit at the table. Legolas moved over for Tauriel and Boromir kicked his brother’s legs away from a stool so that Éowyn could sit between them. Faramir moved away awkwardly, burying his face in his book.

“We were just talking about the Enderi feast.” Aragorn said, suddenly, making Éowyn’s heart race. “Won’t that be fun.”

Éowyn nodded, for her brother had told her about it, but she could not find it in her heart to speak. She took a sip from her mug, cheeks burning, and glanced swiftly at Faramir’s book for a distraction. Luckily, Háma had already started talking about Rohirric feasts, so Aragorn’s attention was focused elsewhere.

“What are you reading?” She muttered to Faramir, who snapped out of his world and looked at her, startled.

“It’s… a book about Rohan, actually…” He said in a soft voice. “By the author of Hyves and Tides… He wrote this before the series but they did not publish it. Now that he’s famous, it came out and it’s really good… I think it describes your culture quite well…” Faramir had said all of this quite quickly, hardly breathing. Éowyn looked at him.

“How did I not know about this? School is clearly affecting me…” She mumbled, touching the book. “Where did you purchase it?”

“Here in Rivendell, in the big bookstore down the slope…”

“The one with the grey arches and the little pond inside?”

“The very same.” Faramir smiled a little. “But I can lend it to you if you want… I’m almost done with it.”

Éowyn smiled.

“I would like that.” She said. “Then I’ll know if I truly want to purchase it myself… Thank you, Faramir.”

He made an odd grimace and went back to his book, wondering how all those words had just come out of his mouth like a waterfall. This was Éowyn, the fiery loud annoying Rohirric maiden… And he had just offered to lend her a book.

 

*                *                *

 

Gandalf sighed happily as he blew rings of smoke from his lips, having lighted his pipe just moments before.

“You know…” He said. “There’s nothing I like more than smoking on a Saturday morning in the courtyard.”

Next to him, Bilbo Baggins nodded in agreement.

“Ah yes…” He paused briefly. “Not the best example for the students, though…”

Gandalf chuckled.

“Oh please, Bilbo… You know as well as I that they won’t stop smoking or drinking even if I do…”

Bilbo leaned forward and took the pipe out of his mouth, inhaling some leaf himself. Then, he gave it back.

“They look up to you, you know…” He said, after a while.

Gandalf smiled a little.

“I know…” He said. “But they worship you… I think there aren’t many teachers who are actually disliked…”

At that moment Celeborn crossed the courtyard in a brisk walk, his grey cloak billowing behind him on. His robes were so long, they could not see his feet. He disappeared into the corridors on the other end, never even looking at them.

“I think skirty-pants may be one of them.” Bilbo muttered, staring after Celeborn with a cynical expression. “He practically bores them to sleep and then expects them to write advanced Sindarin…”

Gandalf laughed a little.

“He’s not a bad teacher…” He said, fairly. “Just a little dry and… ancient.”

Bilbo laughed.

“Dry and ancient? For pity’s sake, look in the mirror!”

Gandalf guffawed, almost choking on his pipe.

“Still… I sometimes think the Lady Galadriel would make a better teacher than him…” He smiled. “She is wise beyond anything mortal or immortal…”

Bilbo sighed deeply.

“How many times have I told you? She would scare the souls out of our students… No, Gandalf… It’s better if she runs the place. Like an army at the front, no one ever dares to go out of line if she’s in charge…”

“She’s gentle too.” Gandalf muttered.

“And you’ve had too much of the Longbottom weed for today…” Bilbo took away his pipe. “I’m confiscating this until I think you’re ready.”

He stood up and started walking towards the corridor, as Gandalf kept on chuckling behind him.

“Don’t smoke it all, you rascal!” He called after him.

Bilbo grinned and entered the corridor, walking swiftly towards the teacher studies. Deep in thought, he noticed not that a door opened right in front of him and he bumped straight into a bulky figure.

“I’m so sorry, I…” Bilbo looked up and so that it was none other than Thorin Oakenshield. He gulped; somehow, he had managed to avoid the dwarf king so far that year.

“Oh. It’s you.” Thorin said, in his low crooning voice.

Bilbo inclined his head slightly.

“Thorin.”

“Bilbo.”

They walked around each other, each lost in their own thoughts, but both wondering why they had lost contact over the years and why it felt so strange to be around each other again.

 

*                *                *

Aendulas strode through the first floor corridors, alongside the courtyard, lost in her own thoughts. She wore her cloak wrapped tightly around her, but still shivered underneath, as there was a cold draft passing through the valley. The pale blue morning light had now transformed into a yellowish tint, and most of the shadows had already disappeared. Aendulas leaned on one of the courtyard bannisters and sighed. It was then when she saw Faramir entering the school gates, walking swift and deep in his own thoughts. He paused briefly when he saw her and nodded his head in acknowledgement. Aendulas strode towards him before he moved on.

“Good morning, Faramir.” She said. “Is everyone at the pub?”

He nodded.

“Boromir will be up soon.” He said solemnly. “He wants to prepare special training-charts for the new recruits.”

“I was not asking about Boromir.” Aendulas grinned. “Are Éowyn and Tauriel down there too?”

Faramir nodded once again, and swallowed, uttering no words whatsoever. Aendulas smiled.

“Did Éowyn complain much about not being on the team? She seems fine but it might be a cover.”

“Actually, no.” Faramir answered. “It sure is strange.”

Aendulas sighed.

“Oh well, she’s strong and can deal with much… I really do admire that in her.”

Faramir smiled.

“Do not tell me that the great Aendulas has no strength.” He said, softly, as he fastened the grasp on his cloak. A cold wind was blowing in from the gates. “You run the White Tree Cult with the power of a lord and in all these years I have never once seen you weep.”

“Not all maidens weep.” Aendulas said, with a wry grin. “And not all lads do not.” She sighed and looked at him. “My mother always told me that I should show my strongest side to the outside world… If I were to weep, I should do it in private, for when leading people, one must only show the side which does not fail.”

Faramir smiled again.

“I wonder why the parents of the Gondorian Court are so demanding…” He muttered. “They can only accept perfection and everything less is not worthy… Why is that? In Rohan…” He paused, grasping his book tightly in his hands. “Look at Éomer and Éowyn… King Théoden is so kind and fatherly to them… and he’s not even their real father…”

Aendulas sighed.

“I know…” She groaned. “But let us not worry about that. At least we still have our fathers… they have no parents…”

“Well, you have your mother as well…” Faramir added.

“Yes, but it’s different… She lives in Dôl Amrôth…” Aendulas flipped her hair. “I am going inside. It’s too cold.”

Faramir followed her and then went up to his room, for he wanted to get some studying done before lunch. He couldn’t understand why nobody else was working, everyone seemed too busy with other things. He sighed, opening his Sindarin book, and started doing the exercises that Celeborn had given them for over the weekend. As far as he knew, nobody else had done them yet.

Faramir frowned, as he encountered a short, yet difficult text in Sindarin, which they had to read and then answer some questions about. They hadn’t done half those characters… Did that mean that they had to look them up themselves and somehow guess the meaning? Faramir felt excitement rushing through his body; finally some challenging homework! He stood up, picked up his books, and headed to the school library.

High School Rivendell had one of the largest libraries in the area and it took up almost all of the fifth floor. Faramir barged in happily – he loved visiting the place – and greeted the librarian (a quiet brown-haired elf who always strode past the bookcases wrapped in a silver cloak). Faramir moved towards the overly large Sindarin section and almost forgot about his homework, as he was too busy contemplating all the ancient volumes resting on the shelves. Oh, if only he could learn more advanced characters soon!

He picked up a small Sindarin dictionary and made for one of the tables near the windows, where a lot of light shone through. Only then did he notice Pearl Took was already there, doing her Sindarin homework. He sat down, opposite.

“Hello.” He smiled. “I’m glad I’m not the only one doing my homework.”

Pearl startled, as she had been deeply concentrated.

“I know what you mean.” She said, then. “Everyone’s too busy playing rugby and things like that. Well, I came here to learn.”

They worked in silence until they both decided to peak at each other’s work.

“You know… I do believe _awartha_ is ‘to abandon’, not ‘abandonment’… that would be _awarth_ …” Faramir said, quietly.

Pearl looked down and clasped her hands on her face.

“Of course! How dim-witted of me! It’s a verb! Now I understand the sentence, for pity’s sake!”

Faramir smiled.

“That’s quite alright.” He said. “I used to confuse verbs and adverbs all the time, and I still do, but it’s just a matter of time. If you have a Personal Palantír, I recommend watching old Sindarin plays… it really helps…”

Pearl looked at him with gratitude.

“I shall do that. Thank you, Faramir.” She smiled. “It’s really good to find someone on the same level – that is – someone who understands what studying is all about.”

Faramir inclined his head with a smile.

“I look forward to studying together.”

 

                                     *                *                 *

The days started rushing by and Enderi was almost upon them. Everybody was very busy: Boromir had to schedule training sessions for the team and also see that Strider pulled his weight properly. Éowyn had to keep up with those training sessions, all the while pretending she was a lad, and trying not to reveal much of her gameplay, for Éomer and Háma knew her well. Aendulas had to balance schoolwork and her Gondorian reports and Faramir was busy studying everything they had taught them in class and quite a few things that they hadn’t. And so on, nobody had a moment’s rest. Even Tauriel, who had been crestfallen after Arwen’s cruel trick, found herself completely caught up in lacrosse, which turned out to be real fun, even if Melpomaen was on the team and Lindir had become captain.

On the day before Enderi started, Aragorn came down to breakfast with a big sack that clinked rather loudly. He put it carefully down on the bench next to him and grinned at everyone.

“Strider… Did you get the spirits?” Éomer grinned. Boromir shook his head, with a smile. Gimli sat up straight.

“Spirits? Where them at, laddie?”

Everyone laughed, as Gimli was usually quite sleepy at breakfast.

“I took a trip to the wine cellars…” Aragorn turned around, as if he expected Lord Elrond to sneak up behind him. “I have been pilfering that part of the building for years, as you know well…”

“Indeed we do.” Boromir clapped him on the back. “Happy Enderi, thanks to you.”

Aendulas looked up with a slight frown.

“I am confused.” She said. “Where do you plan to consume spirits (for a whole army of elves, may I add) without anybody finding out…?”

Boromir pulled her hair slightly, earning a slap in return.

“In our rooms, of course.” He said, massaging his hand. “All the teachers will be celebrating in the pantry and quite a few will be leaving for a few days. Nobody will find out, unless we want them to.” He winked at Aragorn. “So you, me, Éomer and Háma… also Hithu and Borlas… And Gimli of course, who could forget Gimli.” The dwarf was elbowing him in the ribs with a certain amount of aggression. “And you maidens are invited of course, if you can handle it…”

Éowyn did not bother to flare up.

“I can hold my liquor better than you, if you want to bet.” She said, lazily. She was trying to finish her Sindarin homework before class. “I would love to come, I mean.”

“Oh, we’ll pass by…” Aendulas smiled. “But we maidens have our own plans on the first day of Enderi…”

“You’re just saying that to sound interesting.” Boromir laughed. “Just come.” He looked at his brother, who was reading the High School Rivendell paper with a slight grin on his face. “Faramir… you should join us!”

“I don’t drink.”

Everyone around the table sighed, even Legolas. He was having breakfast with them today, although he spent a lot of time at Lindir’s table as well.

“Well, I will come and I shall bring my maidens.” Éowyn smiled. “After our special plans which involve of Aendulas-style activities.” She shuddered. “Don’t drink everything up.”

“We’ll save some for the bet.” Aragorn winked at her and she went red.

Even though most teachers tried to make lighter and more bearable classes that day, the morning still dragged by like an orc moving in broad daylight. Celeborn’s class went particularly slow and everyone grumbled loudly when he presented them with tons of homework after it ended. But other teachers were more lenient and Gandalf walked into class smiling broadly.

“My cutlets!” He exclaimed fondly. “Today we are going to do something really special! We are going to write some Enderi verses!”

There was an excited murmur but also a few groans.

“Poetry is so difficult, Gandalf!” Pearl Took sighed. “Difficult to write, I mean… Can’t we just analyse a poem or something?”

“Shut up!” Borlas exclaimed. “For once that we don’t have to actually work…”

Gandalf frowned at the lad and he piped down. The wizard rummaged through his bag and took out some parchment.

“I shall be handing this out so all of you can write down any words related to Enderi which you know. After that, we can put them together in a couple of verses.”

Everyone started checking their History books for any information whatsoever on the elvish holiday and soon the classroom was filled with the sound of turning pages, scribbling pens and excited murmurs. Swiftly enough, most students had completed their lists – some better than others – and Gandalf made Háma come out in front of the class.

“You have such a nice handwriting…” He praised the lad. “You can write on the blackboard today.

Háma went red as people laughed and Borlas shouted *maiden hand!* at him. He made a rude gesture towards the class as Gandalf turned away and held his chin up, twirling the chalk around in his hand.

“Alright.” Gandalf grinned. “How shall we start?”

Legolas stood up.

“May I?”

“Yes, let the elven princess begin.” Gimli muttered loudly, and earning a scowl back.

“Of course.” Gandalf smiled. He knew Thranduil’s son quite well and that lad had some skills with the words.

“Enderi Enderi! You cover the Sun and make the weather dreary!” Legolas chanted happily.

“That’s very nice indeed!” Gandalf beamed and he made a gesture at Háma to write it down. Háma obeyed, muttering something about Leading Maiden songs under his breath.

“Enderi Enderi! You cover the Sun and make the weather dreary!” Gandalf repeated. “What more, class?”

“We all get drunk and our pants get merry.” Háma mumbled, from the blackboard and everyone went into fits of laughter.

“Háma, please use your rhyming skills on a more serious level.” Gandalf said, but he had a twinkle in his eye.

“The sky may be glum, but the parties are merry.” Háma sighed, reluctantly, and proceeded to write it down as Gandalf beamed at him.

“I know how to go on!” Pearl, eager to participate in just any activity, jumped up. “Elves and dwarves, hobbits, men and more, we sing till our hearts are weary.”

“Oh Enderi.” Éowyn mumbled afterwards and everyone around her snorted loudly. Pearl went red, thinking the Rohirric maiden was making fun of her, and felt angry.

Faramir turned around, looking slightly annoyed as well. He too was taking this activity quite seriously, but somehow, rhymes didn’t come up so easily. He thought Pearl had done a good job, though.

“That’s lovely!” Gandalf looked at the blackboard:

 

_Enderi, Enderi!_

_You cover the Sun and make the weather dreary_

_The sky may be glum but the parties are merry_

_Elves and dwarves,_

_Hobbits, men and more_

_We sing till our hearts are weary_

_Oh Enderi!_

 

The whole class clapped and chanted the verses together and before they knew it, time had passed and the bell had rung. The students scrambled up and wished Gandalf a happy holiday, for it was the last of the afternoon classes. As they were all trooping through the corridor, Pearl muttered softly to Faramir:

“I can’t believe Éowyn deliberately mocked me and yet Gandalf still let her add her stupid contribution to the poem.”

“I don’t think she was mocking you…” Faramir said, fairly. “She just wanted to participate…”

“Well she made it sound as if my part were silly… But come on, *oh Enderi!* “ Pearl spluttered. “Wow, very clever…”

“I have to agree on that.” Faramir added. “Just like her brother, when it comes to contributing in class, any form of foolishness will blurt out, as long as it… blurts out. I do not think she uses her brain much. ”

Pearl was about to agree when a figure shot past them. To their horror they realized that Éowyn had been walking right behind them. Faramir felt his face go cold and stared after her, as she sped off.

“Could she have heard us?” He asked, terrified.

“I don’t know.” Pearl whispered back. “But now I actually feel bad for her. It’s not her fault she doesn’t have a brilliant mind…”

“I never said that!” Faramir had a knot in his throat. “I never meant that.” He confessed.

“Oh well, too late now.” Pearl stopped by her locker and shoved her entire book collection into her bag. “If she did hear us – it’s Éowyn. She won’t mind.”

But Éowyn did mind, and very much indeed. She sat motionless on the window sail in her room, staring at the students in the courtyard. She had never much liked studying and her skills could be found in other activities, but did that make her a fool? Faramir and Pearl Took were very wise for their age and everyone felt a little inferior to them. But this… this was different… they had literally said it this time… Éowyn hugged her knees tight.

Tauriel came in and knew almost at once that something wasn’t right.

“Éowyn?”

The young Rohirric maiden turned her head, and there were tears shining in her eyes, which greatly surprised Tauriel.

“Tauriel. Do you think I’m stupid?”

 

                                      *            *            *

 

The common room was full of excited first and second years when Pearl and Faramir came walking in. They strode past the shouting lads at the gamestone, towards the couch and the tables, but found that they had already been occupied by Tauriel, Eydís and Aendulas. Faramir gulped, knowing what was to come.

“Charming.” Aendulas stood up, arms crossed and looking stern, making Faramir feel very small indeed. “Just charming.”

Tauriel stood up too, angrily.

“She was crying in her room!” She hissed. “Hardly anything can make her cry, what were you thinking?”

Eydís was the last to stand up and calmed her friends down diplomatically, laying one hand on each shoulder.

“Sit down.” She ordered them, sounding very majestic indeed. Aendulas stared at her rather proudly, she was truly behaving like a daughter of Dúrin.

Eydís looked at Faramir and sighed.

“I had you for a quiet person, one that lurks in the shadows, but I could not see you talking badly about someone you don’t even know.” She said, coldly. “Tell me, Faramir? When was the last time you checked Éowyn’s work? You never did. I thought so.” She turned towards Pearl, who mas trembling behind her bag. “And you!” She exclaimed. “Who are you even? That’s my friend you were looking down at. If you need to call someone foolish, it should be me. I am the one who has trouble with her studies, not Éowyn…”

Pearl started crying softly and Eydís turned around towards Aendulas.

“Too much?”

“Maybe just a little.” The Gondorian maiden stood up and walked calmly towards them. “We were just angered that you’d think wrongly of our friend.” She said. “Éowyn never meant to disrespect you in class, Pearl.”

“I really thought she did.” Pearl sniffed. Aendulas sighed and looked for a handkerchief but found none in her pockets. She turned to Eydís.

“Do you have a handkerchief?”

Surprisingly, Eydís pulled out a very neat silk cloth embroidered with ancient dwarfish runes. She handed it to Pearl, who accepted it with trembling hands. She managed to squeak a thank you, but Faramir interrupted her.

“I never meant to say what I did.” He told them, honestly. “My tongue slipped but I do not think that Éowyn is foolish… A little lazy, maybe, but she knows how to think.”

“It’s not us you should be telling this to.” Tauriel smiled softly. “She’s in her room.”

But when Faramir, accompanied by Pearl Took, knocked on Éowyn’s door, nobody opened.

The young Gondorian lad did not sleep well that night, and when he finally managed to close his eyes at dawn, he felt as if he had only a few hours to rest. He was right, for Háma woke him up not long afterwards, beating him with a pillow.

“Rise and Shine, Faramir! It’s Enderi, it’s Enderi!!”

There was no usual student breakfast in the Dining Hall, for many had gone to spend the days with their families as they lived nearby. But Boromir and Aragorn had managed to fill the wooden trays with goods and had employed Éomer and Gimli to carry them outside, on the grass fields just beyond the school walls. The students remaining were all doing the same and it seemed to be a High School Rivendell tradition in order to enjoy the last days of sunlight of the year.

Lindir and Melpomaen had drawn a big cloth on the grass where they sat on with Arwen, her brothers and Saeltheria. Arwen usually spent her holidays at her father’s dwellings, but much to Éowyn and Tauriel’s chagrin, had decided to stay for these. The captain of the Leading Maidens was sneering at them and Tauriel sighed loudly as she turned the other way. They had joined Boromir and the others for breakfast.

Faramir came down a little later, with Háma, and his eyes met with Éowyn’s as he sat down. She showed no emotion whatsoever and started chatting amiably with Gimli. Faramir sighed.

“So where are we holding our feast tonight?” Háma asked, matter-of-factly.

“Our dorm.” Boromir answered. “It is the best choice, I believe… I mean, Éomer can hardly throw Figwit out…”

“Actually, I can…” Éomer said, uncovering his arm and flexing his muscles.

“We cannot hold it at your dorm either.” Boromir continued, ignoring Éomer. “Faramir will probably not come to the party…”

Háma scowled at Faramir, who shot him an apologetic look.

“Our room it is, then.” Aragorn grinned. Suddenly he turned around towards Éowyn. “You maidens are coming, aren’t you?”

Éowyn tried to clear her throat, swallow her bread and speak at the same time, so that did not go very well.

“Yes, but first we will be going for a drink.” Aendulas answered, patting a choking Éowyn on the back. “If I have to face you lads sober, I shall not survive.”

“Come on, Aendulas, we have ale and wine from Elrond’s cellar!” Boromir grinned.

“I do not like ale and wine is a cultural asset to highly valued dinners.” Aendulas grumbled. “So yes, us maidens will join you later.”

Aragorn turned around towards the group of elves.

“Will you join us for a feast in my dorm?” He called over, in Sindarin. The twins stood up, excitedly and Saeltheria looked less bored than usual. Only Arwen and Lindir seemed a little doubtful. Aragorn walked over and sat next to her, practically coaxing the elven maiden into coming. Even Lindir accepted afterwards.

“He is so convincing…” Boromir sighed. “How does he manage to get Arwen to do what he wants?”

Éowyn felt a sinking feeling in her heart and also some kind of boiling anger she thought might be jealousy. She was not sure why she was feeling that on such an intense way… maybe because her relationship with Arwen wasn’t the best… or maybe because she really liked Aragorn. In any case, she stood up and walked away, muttering a small excuse, and headed towards the courtyard.

The morning sun reflected on the walls, throwing the building in a hazy pink glow, and the trees that grew around stood motionless, as there was not a wisp of wind. Éowyn walked around, subtly admiring the elvish settlement and wondering why everything they made seemed so shiny and ethereal. It wasn’t until a few moments later that she realized someone was calling her name. She spun around sharply and found little Pearl Took standing behind her.

“Éowyn? May I speak to you?”

The Rohirric maiden nodded, sitting down on one of the courtyard benches.

“Before you start… I really was not trying to make a fool out of you, Pearl.” Éowyn said, honestly.

“I know that now…” Pearl confessed, with a sigh. “And I’m truly sorry. I spoke out of anger. I do not think you are a fool, I mean, you always have the right answers in Calculus… everyone is good at something different…” She looked at her. “All I have is my brain, therefore, I try to defend it head on. But it was a misunderstanding and I’m truly sorry.”

Éowyn smiled.

“You are already forgiven. In a moment of weakness I thought I was a fool as well, you know… But in the end, I am only what I choose to believe myself.” She looked at Pearl. “And so are you… I am sure there’s more than brains there as well.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes and then Éowyn turned towards her.

“Would you like to join us for our Enderi party?”

Pearl beamed.

 

                                                  *       *       *

 

The Enderi celebrations started right after lunch, when Boromir and Aragorn pulled the large sack of wine bottles from under the bed and put on some party music on their Personal Palantírs. Hithu and Borlas arrived soon afterwards, bringing a large barrel of ale they had acquired between the two of them, at a wine cellar on the other side of the valley. The owner did not get many students there so they did not have any trouble buying it. Boromir covered it with rugs and ice so that it would remain cold.

Meanwhile, Éowyn and Tauriel were in Aendulas’ room, alongside Eydís, feeling very foolish indeed, for the Gondorian maiden had forced them all to wear their best frocks and was now busying herself with their hair. She had managed to tame Éowyn’s strawy flinging-into-every-direction-locks, and it was now flowing down her back like a golden waterfall. Tauriel’s hair was much easier to cope with, and Aendulas had undone her usual braids. Instead, she had placed a small silver diadem on her hair that also crossed her forehead, and Tauriel had been pleased.

“Suddenly, I do not look much like a Silvan anymore.” She had laughed.

Eydís, though, was something different. Aendulas just could not go through the strong curly black hair and they had to hold it in water much against the dwarf’s will. In the end, the three maidens managed to get through the nots and Aendulas places some of the dwarf’s own jewellery on top. She also made her comb her beard and suddenly Eydís shone like a daughter of Dúrin.

“Wow, you made her look like a daughter of kings.” Tauriel whispered, amazed.

“She is a daughter of kings.” Aendulas pointed out. “And now she also looks like it.” She winked at her friend. “I am just joking, Eydís, you behave lordly without my hair-skills.”

There was a knock on the door and Peal Took came in, shyly. She looked different without her school uniform, a little less tight. She was wearing a plain white shirt with a dark red skirt and looked very nice indeed. Her hair was still in her usual bun, though.

“Come in.” Éowyn said, warmly. “I invited her to spend Enderi with us.” She told the others, who looked surprised. But they nodded and Aendulas backed her over.

“Come, Pearl, I have to do everyone’s hair or I will perish of frustration.”

Pearl was about to move forwards when the sight of Eydís made her catch her breath. The dwarf maiden looked so noble, standing their, with jewels in her long hair and small beard. Like all dwarves, her skin was hard, but also smooth and without spots. Her warm brown eyes shone behind the small amount of charcoal that Aendulas had put on her lids and her firm mouth was curved in a polite smile.

The little hobbit could not understand it. The last time she had seen her, the dwarf had made her cry. Now, she could not help admiring her noble posture.

“Hurry up, mistress hobbit.” Aendulas ruffled her hair. “We need to go and get our drinks soon!”

The other maidens smiled. Aendulas often forgot her heavy Gondorian slanter when she was happy and excited.

Meanwhile, Boromir was walking through the corridor towards the First Year dorms. He stopped outside Háma and Faramir’s and knocked softly on the door. His brother always locked it.

Faramir opened it and sighed. Thick glasses were perched upon his nose, a book was in his hand and he was wearing a very comfortable pair of breeches indeed. Boromir smiled fondly.

“Háma is not here.” Faramir muttered. “And I am not going. So please, leave me alone.”

“Little brother…” Boromir said, quietly. “Tell me what could possibly be bothering you on these splendid Enderi days. Do you not love the beginning of the cold season?”

Faramir nodded.

“I do.” He answered. “Now please leave.”

Boromir sat down on his brother’s bed, with no intention of doing what Faramir had just said.

“I shall not leave until you tell me what it is that’s wrong.”

Faramir sighed and sat down next to him.

“Alright. Then answer me this.” He looked at his brother. “Why do I make people uncomfortable?”

Boromir looked at him, utterly surprised.

“Uncomfortable?” His mouth was twitching. “But you hardly move, let alone utter a word in company… How can anyone be bothered by this?”

“Exactly.” Faramir sighed. “People believe I’m cold and strange… Or that I dislike them… But I don’t…”

Boromir smiled a little.

“I know Háma thinks highly of you.” He said. “And I know you are a good friend to him, you balance each other out.”

“Háma is a good friend.” Faramir acknowledged. “But he will grow bored if I never join your feasts. And I absolutely abhor the idea of ever joining your feasts.”

Boromir chuckled.

“I know you don’t.” He said. “You just have to give them a chance. And as for the people around us… you have to give them a chance as well. Nobody will think anything of you if you do not show them. You cannot hold a status if you do not have the courage to show your valour.”

Faramir sighed.

“But Boromir… I am not like you… I cannot speak to people with the same ease, I do not know anything about rugby and the things you talk about… every time I try to open my mouth, you stop me… I know what I say is mostly academical, but that’s the only knowledge I’m able to offer.”

Boromir looked a little guilty.

“You are right, little brother.” He said. “I should not tease you for your knowledge… You know I’m proud of you.” He sighed. “As for a conversation… Is it not so that Éowyn shares your interest in books?”

Faramir sighed deeply.

“I think she may dislike me even more than before, Boromir, for I said something that I should not have… I called her foolish behind her back but she heard it all the same and from what her maiden friends have told me, she was quite affected by it.” He paused to breathe. “I did not mean it, Boromir… It just slipped.”

His brother frowned and stood up.

“If that is truly what’s bothering you, why do you sit here and mope? Go apologize, you _saddle-goose_!” Boromir sighed. “Come on, little brother, get dressed and come to the feast. She will be there.”

On the other side of the valley, leaning on the bannisters over the waterfalls, the five maidens were sipping on colourful flower liquor, which Aendulas and Tauriel both knew very well. It made the two of them feel quite light-headed and Pearl also wobbled about just a little. Éowyn and Eydís did not feel much, though, as they were used to stronger alcoholic beverages. They stared at Tauriel and Aendulas, who were giggling as a few of Elrond’s guard passed by, and sighed deeply.

“Lads and laces.” Éowyn told the dwarf maiden. “All they care about.”

“Elven lads are pretty… They look like maidens… It seems Rivendell has only maidens…” Eydís chuckled. “They should come to Erebor, where we cannot be distinguished.”

Pearl looked at her.

“Why is it you say that?” She piped up.

Eydís turned around and laughed.

“Because, mistress hobbit, we female dwarves look very much like the men, as we also have beards.”

Pearl observed her face with great interest.

“I do not think you look like a man.” She said, quietly.

“Thanks to me!” Aendulas cried from the other side of the balcony, giggling loudly. Éowyn snorted. But Eydís smiled at the little hobbit.

“We should be going.” She said, then. “Or there shall be no ale left at the lads’ feast.” She walked towards Aendulas and gripped her firmly around the arm. “Come on, now.”

Éowyn held Tauriel steady, laughing.

“Let us go.” She said. “Can you walk?”

“Yes, I can… I am not drunk… just happy…” Tauriel jumped around a little. “Oh Éowyn… And you too!” She cried at the others. “You are my best friends!”

Eydís and Éowyn shared a look of amusement and let the rest up the path towards the school, which was now bathed in a deep shade of orange as the sun was going down. The leaves on the trees were going brown and red, as the season dictated, and the river now looked more silver than blue. They reached the gates in no time, as there were many bridges crossing the valley which allowed for short-cuts to be taken. Once inside, they crossed the courtyard and headed up to Boromir’s dorm, which was clearly recognizable for its open door, loud music and a cluster of people streaming in and out. As they pushed themselves through the crowd and entered, they saw that Boromir and Aragorn had pushed away the beds towards one corner and had joined the two tables, which were filled with beverages and goods. Someone’s Personal Palantír was perched on top of the cupboard, emitting the loud music that reached the corridor. The room was filled with familiar and unknown faces, and they sought their classmates in between.

“Little sister!” Éomer jumped on top of Éowyn, hugging her tightly and almost spilling the mug of ale in his hand. “I love you.” He mumbled, tightening the grip. “I am so sorry they did not take you on the rugby team…”

Éowyn sighed and pushed him away.

“I love you too.” She muttered, so that no one could hear. “But try to communicate these things when you are not drunk, alright?”

They found Boromir next to the wine, serving cups to Arwen’s brothers.

“Little maidens!” He smiled, and left the twins to their wine. He punched Éowyn on a friendly way and she punched him back, laughing. “Where did you go?”

“To that elven pub, by the waterfall.” Éowyn turned around to look at their friends. “It seems some of us do not tolerate alcohol that well.”

Boromir laughed and threw an arm around Aendulas, embracing her in a one-armed hug. For once, she did not fight back, but let out a giggle.

“Are you drunk?” She asked.

“I am.” He laughed. “But so are you.” And he let her towards Hithu and Borlas, who were openly discussing Gondorian politics.

Tauriel pulled Éowyn’s arm.

“Look at Lindir.”

Quite affected by the wine, Lindir was dancing slowly by himself in the middle of the room, surrounded by groups of lads who were jumping up and down to the rhythm. He had a glass of wine in one hand and held his robe up a little, with the other one. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be enjoying the atmosphere. Éowyn laughed.

“We should join him and form an elvish band.” She told Tauriel. “People would pay high gold.”

Tauriel guffawed, and accepted a cup full of wine from Elrohir, who had taken Boromir’s place in serving.

“I would take that challenge.”

Meanwhile, Eydís found the barrel of ale and drowned a newly-found mug into it, as Pearl stared in wonder.

“Those mugs are big… why, that’s a pint…” She whispered.

“In Erebor, we have mugs as big as barrels.” Eydís answered matter-of-factly, enjoying the look of amazement on little Pearl’s face. “Come now, have some ale!” She offered her mug to the hobbit.

Pearl took a sip and shuddered. She had never much liked the taste.

“That is no way of drinking ale…” Eydís laughed, and drained half the mug in one gulp. “That’s how you do it.”

Pearl took the mug again and this time drank a couple of gulps. She felt much lighter-headed after that and laughed.

“It gets better after a while…”

Legolas was dancing seductively under the Palantír perched on the cupboard, and many maidens were staring at him, sighing. He took no notice of them and kept on moving his body to the rhythm, looking very happy indeed. Not far from him, sat Gimli, a mug of ale in his hand, frowning at the sight of the dancing elf.

“We have maidens for that…” He muttered to himself. “Why would a man dance like that? But of course, elves are truly different…”

Faramir came in, having changed into everyday robes, and for once, he had left his glasses behind. He squinted around the room, terrified, hoping to find his brother, but he saw him dancing with Aendulas in the middle of the room. He sighed, not wanting to interrupt them, and walked over to Tauriel, who once again, was accepting wine from Elrohir.

“Have you seen Éowyn?”

“Faramiiiiiiir!!!” Tauriel seemed delighted to see him there. “She is over there, with Gimli.” She gave him a little push, a mischievous look on her face. “You like her, do you not?”

Faramir fled from a slightly drunk Tauriel and headed towards Éowyn and Gimli, who were both guffawing at the sight of Legolas, who had now made the cupboard his dance partner.

“Lucky a maiden she who ends up with that elf!” Éowyn took a sip of her ale and Faramir was amazed at how much like Éomer she had sounded just now. “Legolas sure knows how to move.”

“Maybe it is not a maiden he will end up with!” Gimli said, with a laugh and they both grinned broadly.

“You should try your luck!” Éowyn chuckled, punching him in the shoulder. Gimli spat out his ale.

“Me? Going after that? Never! Over my dead body and those of my ancestors…”

Éowyn laughed and then caught sight of Faramir, standing there. She frowned slightly, but got up and walked towards him.

“You look different without your glasses.” She said, softly.

He was taken aback by her approach, but swallowed and mumbled an apology.

“I came to say that I am truly sorry for the other day… It was wrong of me to call you a fool…”

Éowyn raised an eyebrow.

“Alright.” She said. “Good.” She turned away from him and walked towards Tauriel, who was heading to the wine again. “Tauriel! You have had enough!”

Faramir sighed deeply, feeling he had accomplished nothing, and walked towards the wine himself. Elrohir saw him coming and stopped him.

“We are out of wine.” He said. “Someone has to go down to the cellar and get some more… it is truly a mission of risk though…”

Aragorn, who had been lurking nearby, came closer.

“Faramir… you should go… they will never suspect you, you are a star student…” He looked around if Boromir was near. “Go now, before your brother sees you and starts worrying.”

Faramir looked puzzled.

“Why should I? I can live without wine, I am most probably the only one who can live without wine here…”

“Faramir.” Aragorn said, quite seriously. “If you go down to the wine cellar, I shall get Éowyn to forgive you. You know I can.”

For some reason, the young Gondorian lad found himself accepting, and sped off towards the wine cellars, as Strider headed to the window sail where Éowyn was sitting now, with Tauriel. The elf elbowed her friend in the ribs.

“Aragorn is coming.” She hissed.

Éowyn turned red, but felt much braver after a few ales. She smiled at Aragorn so brightly that he was taken aback.

“Éowyn.” He said.

“Yes?” Éowyn felt happy that her voice had come out quite steady.

“Would you go to the wine cellars for me?” Aragorn smiled sweetly. “I have already sent someone but I forgot to tell him that we needed the old dusty bottles, in the backroom. Elrond will notice if he takes the other ones… Would you be so good as to tell him that? I have to take care of some other matters now…”

Éowyn felt slightly taken aback, but nodded all the same.

“I will.” She said. Aragorn smiled even more.

“Thank you, Éowyn.” There was a twinkle in his eyes as he moved away. She stared after him, sighing deeply.

“I do not like how he speaks to you…” Tauriel muttered faintly, trying to breathe in some fresh air through the window. “It is as if he knows that you like him and makes use of it…”

“Tauriel, stay here and do not move.” Éowyn said. “I shall be back in a moment.”

She ran out of the room, into the corridor, and then down the stone staircase. The cellars were near Balin’s history classroom, next to the pantry. She opened the door carefully and then wobbled down the could dark stairs that led down to the wine.

The High School Rivendell cellars were not small. They consisted out of a maze of corridors and arches, all leading to different rooms stacked with barrels. She saw a light in one of the last, and headed towards it. This room only had bottles and she saw Faramir staring at them as if he had never seen them before. He startled as she came in.

“ _Gadzooks_!” He swore loudly, making a small jump. Éowyn snorted.

“Just me… I did not know Aragorn had sent you down here…” She walked towards a small door at the end of the room. “He sent me to tell you that we can only take the old dusty bottles from the other room or Elrond might notice…”

Faramir, trying to catch his breath, walked after her.

“Are you still angry?” He asked.

Éowyn sighed, and started putting bottles in the sack she had brought with her.

“I never was.” She said, honestly. “Just sad that people should think that I’m foolish…”

“I do not think you are foolish.” Faramir helped her fill the sack. “It came out wrong. I was frustrated because I have to work hard.” He paused a little. Éowyn nodded for him to go on. “My father… he has Boromir to be proud of, and I promised I would make him proud as well, by beating everyone in my year at all things except rugby… So I cannot go to feasts, I cannot go to pubs… I spend most time by myself, studying… And that does make me feel as if you have better lives.” He sighed deeply. “So I called you a fool because you were acting merry and seemed to have no troubles. Because I wish I were like that as well.”

Éowyn stared at him, forgetting about the wine altogether.

“Faramir…” She muttered. “Do you realize that this is the first time we have actually ever spoken?”

He nodded.

“You were honest.” She went on. “You just spoke about your feelings. And Faramir, we are not so different, you and I… I know exactly what it is to have to prove my worth before an older sibling… being a maiden makes it difficult to show my valour. My uncle will smile at Éomer when he scores a goal in rugby, but when he sees me in the field doing exactly the same, he will just show worry and anguish… It is truly difficult to tell our elders that we are who we are…” She gave him a friendly shoulder squeeze. “I understand.”

Faramir smiled, and Éowyn felt amazed at how different the lad was acting now. This was the hidden Faramir, his true self which he had barely dared to be yet at school, the little brother Boromir loved so much. She returned the smile and then proceeded filling the sack with wine bottles. He helped her and together they pulled the sack towards the maze of corridors, leaving it outside. Faramir seemed a little dubious of going back and Éowyn took advantage of the situation by asking a question.

“So… Hyves and Tides… Which book do you like best?”

“Slandering Vines.” Faramir answered almost immediately. Éowyn laughed.

“It is also my favourite one of the series.” She smiled. “I love it from the first chapter to the last…”

“I know…” Faramir sighed. “I love how the characters evolve in that one, as they find out that they actually do not hate each other and…” His voice died down. “Did you hear that?”

Éowyn pricked up her ears but she heard nothing.

“What is it? Someone down here?” She whispered.

Faramir moved back in towards the room, pulling Éowyn along with him, and they hid behind a shelf of wine bottles. They could clearly hear some steps now, coming right towards them, but instead of entering the room and catching them stealing wine, whoever it was pulled the door shut with a loud bang! Éowyn and Faramir stared at each other in horror as they heard it bold on the outside.

“What in Arda?” Faramir moved towards the door and looked through the keyhole, but there was no one to be seen.

“This must be a joke…” Éowyn muttered. “No teacher would lock us in with the light on and all… And a large sack of wine outside!”

“We cannot risk calling them…” Faramir mumbled back. He let himself slide down the wall and sat next to the door. Éowyn sat down beside him and they both sighed in unison. Then Éowyn looked up.

“I shall try to communicate with Tauriel on my Smartír…” She exclaimed. “She knew I came down here and is probably wondering why I am not back yet…” And she started writing a swift smartír letter.

But Tauriel was not paying attention to her smartír at all, as she was in the First Floor bathroom, throwing up all she had consumed that day, with a very pale Legolas holding her hair. He had pulled her out of there when she had started slandering through the room claiming she had to find a bathroom as soon as possible. He almost regretted having moved forward now, for the scene was making him sick.

“Why did you drink so much? You know you cannot tolerate elvish liquor very well… and all that wine… and all that ale… Tauriel, you irresponsible little _bespowler_ …”

Tauriel groaned, hugging the latrine with both arms and let out another load, never noticing her smartír flickering lights. Legolas sighed.

“That is it, Tauriel… When you are done, I am taking you to bed. You need to rest.”

So when Tauriel finally stopped throwing up, Legolas brought her to her room and tucked her in, covering her with an extra rug so that she would not catch a cold. He sighed. High School Rivendell was very different from their life in Mirkwood and maybe she was not handling it very well… But then again, even though Arwen and Saeltheria were troublesome, Tauriel now had a group of maiden friends who cared for her… although he had been the first to move forward, and they had trusted him to take action…

Legolas sighed and made his way back to the dorm, where the music had quieted down and found that most of the students had already left. Only a few remained: Boromir, Aendulas, Aragorn, Éomer, Háma, Arwen, Saeltheria, Lindir, Elladan, Elrohir, Melpomaen, Eydís, Pearl and Gimli were seated in a circle with an empty wine bottle in the middle.

“What are you doing?” The elf asked, perplexed.

“Oh Legolas, how is Tauriel?” Eydís asked, worried.

“She is resting.” Legolas answered. “She had far too much wine.”

“Yes, it seemed like that…” Elrohir chuckled and his twin laughed as well. Arwen sighed.

“You are just on time.” Boromir said merrily. “For Truth or Dare.”

Legolas looked at them, as he had never heard of it before.

“What is that?”

“Have you truly never played that?” Saeltheria laughed. “My, Mirkwood really is another land…” She threw her sandy hair back with a look of disdain.

“Truth or Dare, master elf, is a game in which we spin this bottle until it stops at a certain person.” Boromir explained. “That person may ask for Truth or for Dare… If he chooses Truth, he will have to ask one question about himself truthfully… and if he chooses Dare, he will have to do whatever action the rest command him…”

Legolas sat down.

“That should be fun.”

Little Pearl Took, a big mug of ale in her hands, piped up:

“What if we do not want to do all that?”

Boromir laughed, maliciously.

“Then, you drink your entire cup or glass or mug.” He whispered, dramatically, and everyone laughed. “Strider… will you do the honours?”

Aragorn moved forward and spun the bottle, which after twirling about for some time, landed on Aendulas.

“Truth or Dare, my fair maiden?” Boromir grinned broadly.

“I think I shall drink.” Aendulas laughed. “You know I never reveal anything and I am the commander, not the comandee.”

“Just play, Aendulas!” Came a cry from Eydís.

The Gondorian maiden sighed.

“Fine. Truth.”

“Then answer this truthfully: would you drink in order not to kiss me if you had chosen Dare and that would have been your command?” Boromir blurted out. Aragorn and Éomer shared a look of concern, for their friend was too drunk to keep his thoughts to himself.

“I do not know what that even means.” Aendulas sighed. “But I shall drink so I do not have to answer that muddled phrase.” And she did.

The bottle was spun again and this time it landed on Lindir, who also picked Truth.

“Did you ever kiss someone in High School Rivendell?” Pearl asked, happily. Lindir went a little pale and nodded, looking away. He spun the bottle quickly, to draw the attention away from him, and it landed on Gimli, who laughed.

“Dare! I pick Dare!” He exclaimed.

“Fine…” Aragorn grinned. “I dare you to kiss one of the elves, on the lips.”

Gimli went pale.

“Someone give me ale!” He cried.

“Someone give _me_ ale.” Saeltheria mumbled. “Do not come near me.”

“I would never…” Gimli looked at her in disgust. Elves were truly majestically-carved creatures, too shiny to come near to. He shuddered at the sight of the group of silver cloaks and long locks, clustered together… All except Legolas, who was squeezed in between Éomer and Aragorn, as he had arrived late. His pale white skin contrasted with the other lads’ darker ones, and his hair looked like pure gold under the room’s candlelight. His eyes had turned darker in the atmosphere and his lips were pursed together in a thoughtful stare. Gimli came to his senses quickly enough and held up his cup.

“Someone give me ale.” He insisted.

“Are you sure, master dwarf?” Aragorn laughed.

“I am very sure.”

He would never allow himself to be even remotely seduced by one of those twig-legged silver spoons.

It was then when Aendulas looked around and asked:

“Where are Éowyn and Faramir? Should they not be back yet?”

 

                             *            *             *

 

“Do you see not what I see, I see a grey grey thing in the vicinity.” Éowyn said, with a yawn.

“The bars from the small air-hole?” Faramir was squinting really hard to see anything without his glasses.

“Yes, right again. Your turn.” Éowyn checked her smartír once again, but she had not received any answer. After trying to contact Tauriel, she had attempted to warn her other friends, but everyone seemed too busy to answer. She sighed deeply.

“Do you see not what I see, I see a blue blue thing in the vicinity.” Faramir smiled. He did not mind staying away from the party so much… It would actually be really nice if the door had not been shut…

“Blue? There is nothing blue!” Éowyn stood up energetically and looked around. “You must be changing the colours with your poor eyesight! The bottles here are dark green…”

“I can see your face quite clearly.” Faramir said, with a grin.

“My face? There is nothing blue on my face, I…” She paused. “My eyes?”

“Right again!” Faramir grinned broadly. “Was it not clever?”

“Faramir… I cannot see my own eyes, that’s cheating…” She sat down beside him again and stared right at him. He felt he could not hold her gaze and blinked away. “Grey.” She added. “Your eyes are grey, I just noticed… I never did while you were wearing your glasses.”

Faramir laughed softly.

“I look different without them.” He said. “Strange, I might say.”

“You look nice.” Éowyn gave him a little push. “You…”

But she was interrupted by her smartír, that started ringing loudly. She held it up and saw it was Aendulas. She pressed the screen in order to hear her.

“Where are you?” Aendulas exclaimed. “You have been gone for hours!”

“Someone locked us in the wine cellar!” Éowyn exclaimed. “Come help us, for pity’s sake!”

And just a few moments later, the whole dorm had come down to the cellars and Boromir had unbolted the door, letting them out. Everyone was laughing although Aendulas eyed an overly-amused Arwen and Saeltheria suspiciously. She felt pretty sure that they were somehow behind this…

The group headed back up the staircase and entered the dorm once more. Boromir turned the music down a little and looked at them.

“Are you tired yet or do you want to know what Enderi is really about?”

“ENDERI!!!” Elladan and Elrohir threw up their arms and beamed at the group, nodding feverently.

“What do you mean?” Eydís asked.

“I do not care, I am in for it!” Háma grinned.

Boromir laughed at the puzzled First-Years. They reminded him so much of himself last year… Full of energy, always wondering what was coming next… He sighed.

“Hide and seek in the school grounds!” He exclaimed. “Traditional Enderi Hide and Seek!”

“WHAT?” Aendulas slapped him. “Drunk and in the dark?”

“Just like that.” Boromir punched Éomer in the shoulder. “You seek! The rest of us hide!”

Éomer’s * why do I have to seek * was drowned by the stampede of footsteps trying to get away from there as soon as possible. The group ran down the stairs and out through the front door, rushing across the grounds in different directions. Faramir tried to follow Éowyn, but she was too fast for him, and only when she saw they were heading in the same direction, did she wait for him. They hid together behind one of the bushes that ran alongside the walls.

“Éomer is not a very good seeker…” Éowyn assured Faramir.

Meanwhile, Aendulas was swearing loudly and very unladylike indeed, as Boromir had made her duck into the rushes beside the small pond.

“There are creatures walking into my hair as we speak!” She hissed.

“Shhh.” Boromir answered. “Éomer will hear us.”

Gimli, who had hidden behind a rock, took another sip of his ale, which he had brought with him. Suddenly, a figure moved behind him and he almost jumped in fright.

“What are you doing there you _wandought whiffle-whaffle_?!?” He hissed as Legolas crouched down beside him.

“Calm down, I could not find a place to hide and I panicked.” The elf threw his hair back, much like Saeltheria had done before, only twice as elegant, for he was the prince of Mirkwood after all. Gimli grumbled, but let him be.

A few moments later they hear screams and everyone watched amused as Melpomaen sped around the grass, Éomer at his tail.

“Stop running, Figwit, I have you!” The Rohirric lad was shouting.

“Lindiiiir! Arweeeeen! Help!” Melpomaen squeaked, and everyone emerged out of their hiding places, screaming with laughter.

“Remember tonight!” Boromir cried, raising yet another bottle of wine he had brought down to the grounds with him. “When we grow up, we shall miss nights such as these!”

Everyone laughed and cried out in agreement. For a short while, all their academic worries were set aside and they felt truly happy.

 

                                  *          *           *

 

Aendulas woke up and she did not have to open her eyes to know that it was around noon, for the sun shone right into her face. She yawned peacefully, wondering why she had slept so well, but when she tried to stretch and could not do that, her question was answered. Someone was holding her very tightly indeed.

She turned her head and realized with a shock that it was Boromir and that his chest was bare. She tried to push him aside, avoiding to think about what else was bare, and saw to her horror that she too wore no clothes… It was all coming back to her now… the feast… the laughter in the school grounds… She and Boromir entering his dorm… The bed… Aendulas sat up straight, completely pushing him aside, and Boromir woke up with a jolt. When he saw Aendulas next to him, he almost choked.

“Are you… what did… Is there…?” He sat up as well, the cover sliding elegantly off his body and leaving absolutely no part to the imagination. Aendulas covered her eyes with a grimace.

“Boromir.” She said, calmly. “We do not speak of this. We do not think of this. We pretend this never happened.”

The Gondorian lad looked at her, so tranquile, so serene… The perfect composure, the ideal behaviour… All that was expected from a maiden of the Gondorian Court… yet she had slept with him that night. He felt guilty and ashamed.

“I am so sorry.” He muttered. “I was really drunk and lost control of my actions… I should not have…”

“We should not have.” Aendulas said, pointedly. “I too should have had the sense to… not follow your lead. Why I came with you, remains a mystery…”

Boromir covered himself with the blanket.

“Are you alright?” He asked, a little concerned.

“I am fine, Boromir… Just promise you will forget about it.”

“I promise… But I do not wish to be responsible for your troubles… I did not hurt you, did I?” He said, quite rapidly.

Aendulas sighed deeply.

“No Boromir, it did not hurt. I was alright and I am alright. Now, let us put this behind us.” She found her gown under the bed and pulled it on as Boromir turned around. “I have to go…” She hurried out of the room towards her own dorm, where she found Pearl Took sleeping in her bed. She smiled a little and decided not to wake the little hobbit up. Eydís, in the other bed, was snoring loudly.

Aendulas sat down on the window sail and looked outside, trying to forget Boromir’s face and his firm body, his tender kisses and loving caresses… His arms wrapping around her…

“ _Sard_!” She swore loudly. “Forget it, Aendulas, forget it!”

Outside, the warm Sun showed no signs of hiding away for Enderi… But the season revealed itself in the cold wind from the north that blew away the last leaves on the treetops and made anyone who was walking outside, wrap their cloaks tightly around their faces. Yes, the season was changing and soon Durin’s Day would be upon them. Aendulas hoped for some peace and quiet until then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: The Breaking Fast Club
> 
> Yes, those who have watched The Breakfast Club will know what I'm talking about. Let's Middle-Earth that movie up :D
> 
> How will our High School Rivendell gang handle detention? Stay tuned.
> 
> Read High School Rivendell's first blog post: Technology and gadgets in High School Rivendell  
> http://highschoolrivendell.blogspot.com.es/2016/02/technology-and-gadgets-in-high-school.html


	9. The Breaking Fast Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the gang get into detention and Elrond makes them write a composition about tolerance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this upload took ages... yes, I'm so sorry haha. I've been busy with... you know... stuff...   
> I have no excuse.
> 
> So, just a couple of things:
> 
> A) If anyone has seen "The Breakfast Club", this is a chapter inspired on it. It could go under the parody clause, but hey, the whole story is a big fanfiction, so it's just one fanfic inside   
>  another. Fanficception. You can fire me now for the bad joke.
> 
> B) There's a Rohirric word somewhere: Unsoð (Not true). I have used it as "bullsh*t".
> 
> C) Yes. Celeborn's name in Telerin really is Teleporno. Check it out: http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Celeborn
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading. I do hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Chapter Nine**

** The Breaking Fast Club **

_Elves, dwarves, halflings, men… We all dwell together here in High School Rivendell, yet I see no reason to express joy on the same way as our Lord Elrond does… I care not for words such as *tolerance* or *union*… Because in the end, we all stand for ourselves and when things get real, no one will lend you a helping hand._

 

Saeltheria crept through the corridor, checking right and left in case there were any students approaching. As she saw no one, she swiftly sped along and moved closer to the First Year bedrooms, which were empty right now for it was break time and everybody was in the common room, as it was too cold to be outside. Only a few of the rugby team were brave enough to play a game before the afternoon classes.

Saeltheria took a key from her pocket and cautiously opened Éowyn and Tauriel’s bedroom door, which swung open with a small creak. She had managed to steal the key from Lindir at the Guider Office and for the moment, Arwen’s plan was working to the utmost perfection.

Saeltheria took a small box from under her cloak and opened it, being careful not to breathe in the fowl odour that it emitted. She had managed to find – just as Arwen had said – samples of animal waste in the classroom where they had Nature Studies, with Radagast. The small wizard often took long walks in the fields outside the Hidden Valley and came back with almost everything, to the students’ horror. He had a whole case full of different types of animal excrements which he said were excellent to ward off certain creatures. Strider had muttered that the only thing he had managed to ward off so far were the number of students that came to his class and everyone had found that quite funny. But right now, Saeltheria felt happy for they were going to use it to their advantage.

But the truth was… she had not followed Arwen’s instructions exactly. Saeltheria had found nothing less than orc excrements, one of the foulest smells that existed, and she had carefully wrapped the box that contained them in another, bigger box, so that the smell would not penetrate at all. But now, in the maidens’ room, it would certainly break lose nicely…

Saeltheria snorted and then flung the open box inside the room, spilling its contents everywhere. She shut the door quickly and turned the key, leaving as fast as she could. The smell was already coming from under the door and it was truly appalling.

They were not playing that prank out of sheer spite. In fact, just a few days ago, Éowyn and Tauriel had filled their entire bedroom with common frogs and one or two still appeared from time to time. Saeltheria shuddered. When she had seen all those creatures on her bed, she had screamed with Arwen in unison for a few minutes. The orc excrements would serve those maidens right.

The elf slipped into class just after the afternoon bell rang, and sat down quietly next to Arwen.

“Did you do it?” She asked.

Saeltheria nodded.

“And I have a surprise. You will not believe what kind of waste I used…”

Arwen looked at her, puzzled.

“I told you to use farm animal waste… it smells awful…”

Saeltheria looked at her, maliciously.

“I found something worse.”

Arwen frowned a little, wondering what she could possibly be talking about, but Saeltheria was going purple in the attempt of trying not to laugh and that made matters complicated.

Meanwhile, the First Years were in Drama class, preparing small sketches to perform in front of the others. Haldir had decided to shake them out of their comfort zone and place them with different partners. Éowyn, to her great horror, was stuck with Borlas, and reading the sketch through proved to be extremely difficult. But Háma was in bigger trouble, for he had been paired up with Aendulas.

The Gondorian maiden had been in a sensitive mood lately and her emotions flickered about, never warning them if she was going to laugh or scream. That day she seemed to be in a particularly bad mood and the sketch was not helping. It was about a wealthy lady who had to interact with a modest farmer and ended up learning about what really mattered in life. In order to make it more challenging, Haldir had made Háma the wealthy lady and Aendulas the modest farmer, and that just was not working.

“Aendulas…” Háma sighed. “Work with me here… You are supposed to be a farmer… you cannot speak with your usual accent…”

“I shall speak exactly as I like!” Aendulas answered, stubbornly. “I am a member of the Gondorian court, I do not know what a farmer speaks like, unless it is your Rohirric accent which I should imitate.”

Háma liked Aendulas but that managed to flare him up.

“Oh so you are a member of the Gondorian court…” He grumbled. “A poor poor member of the Gondorian court who can’t even do a simple exercise… I bet you are great at empathy as well… you know, putting yourself in someone else’s place…”

“I know what empathy is, I’m surprised that you do.” Her accent was leaving her as she was getting angrier. “Where did you learn that? In the barn?”

“At least I know what a barn is!” Háma said, irritated now. “I know what animals are and what they need. I have a connection with the creatures that provide for me in so many ways. What do you know? I bet they teach you a lot of politics in your royal court, but do they tell you were your food comes from?”

“Why should I bother about such things?” Aendulas snapped.

“Because your country can only keep itself going because you think you have the right to steal all our crops.” Háma answered angrily. “All the meat… all the greens… all the ale… That comes from Rohan.”

“It is the duty of every province to pay taxes to Gondor.” Aendulas said coldly. Háma lost his temper and banged on the table with his fist.

“ROHAN IS NOT A PROVINCE OF GONDOR AND IT NEVER WILL BE!” He shouted. Everyone turned around, surprised. Haldir, at the front of the class, was staring at them, one eyebrow raised and his thin lips slightly separated.

“Rohan is Gondor.” Aendulas said, still calm. “You can look it up in any history book, although that would involve reading. Did they teach you to read in your village or are you just starting now? In that case I would recommend something lighter…”

“You think you’re so smart with your White Tree Cult and your opinions…” Háma said, in disgust. “But at least in Rohan they teach us loyalty… and we do not insult our friends.”

The whole class was staring at them, in shock. Éowyn was horrified at the outburst and stared at Aendulas, hardly recognizing her. There was a certain bitterness upon her face she had not seen before. After a few moments, Haldir started scribbling something down on a small piece of parchment and then walked towards their table, handing it out to them.

“Saturday detention.” He said, quietly. And turned back to the blackboard. Háma and Aendulas did not dare to protest; they were suddenly aware of the situation they were in and found it rather uncomfortable.

Haldir took no notice of them for the rest of the lesson and made other students appear at the front of the class to do their sketches. Gimli, to his great irritation, had been paired up with Legolas. Haldir had not brought scripts for all of them, so they were to improvise.

“Let us see…” Haldir said, quietly. “You shall be an elf and a dwarf visiting the Iron Hills for the first time. The dwarf should explain about his hometown and the elf should show interest or not. Gimli, you are to be the elf and Legolas, the dwarf.”

The two spluttered in shock.

“But professor!” Legolas cried. “We already are an elf and a dwarf. Can we not be ourselves?”

Haldir narrowed his eyes and walked over to him, staring right at him.

“Is theatre being ourselves, Legolas?” He said, arrogantly, in his soft voice. “Or is it learning to be many different types of people?”

“But a dwarf!” Legolas wailed.

“An elf!” Gimli exclaimed in disgust.

“Do you also want detention?”

The lads sighed and started acting out their sketch, walking alongside each other next to the blackboard. Legolas cleared his throat and started to speak in a lower voice:

“This is my hometown… the… er… Iron Hills… if you look over there, you can see my brother spilling ale over his beard.”

The class laughed and Haldir’s perfect composure twitched.

“Ohhhh.” Gimli answered, putting his hands on his cheeks and batting his eyelashes. He had turned his voice loud and shrill, making him sound more like an old scullery maid. “What is a beard? I have never seen so much hair on someone’s face! We only have hair on our heads, and it has to be long like a maiden’s… Otherwise, our entire world might crumble!”

The class guffawed and Legolas looked slightly annoyed.

“Over there is the great hall.” He grumbled. “Here my entire family drinks ale and burps loudly and then they fall asleep in their own pools of…”

“Oh, wow!” Gimli interrupted, his voice still high and shrill. “Back home in Mirkwood we only drink wine and we do it while bathing, so we can always look clean!”

By then the class was shaking with laughter and Haldir was staring motionless at the blackboard, as if trying to find an answer to the madness that was going on. He turned back to the elf and the dwarf and held up both hands, his cloak slipping elegantly backwards along with his golden hair.

“Halt.” He commanded. Legolas and Gimli looked up, caught by surprise. He walked towards them, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed upon each other slightly.

The class sat motionless, almost expecting him to strike out. But of course, he did no such thing.

“It seems you shall be quite a crowd in detention this Saturday.” He murmured, and proceeded with giving both of them a slip. They groaned.

“It’s all your fault!” Legolas cried at Gimli. “Me? In detention? If Ada finds out…”

Gimli snorted.

“Did Ada never punish you?” He mimicked Legolas’s higher voice. The elf tried to give him a shove but found that he could not move the dwarf. Gimli laughed. “Maybe Ada can shove me for you as well…”

“Did you not have enough?” Haldir looked amazed. “Legolas, Gimli… and you two as well.” He pointed at Háma and Aendulas. “Go to Lord Elrond’s study now.”

Aendulas stood up, an ugly scowl on her face, and walked toward the hallway in a dignified manner, followed closely by Legolas and Gimli. But Háma moved towards the front of the class and faced Haldir directly.

“You do realize I told you to get out of here, did you not?” Haldir muttered, lazily.

“She insulted me… why am I in detention?” Háma growled. But Haldir remained expressionless and the young Rohirric lad could not deal with it. He felt his hands tremble a little as the elf turned away and sat down behind his desk.

“The rest of you, start reading the play on the following page.” He said coolly, ignoring the four students that stood beside the door. Feeling very miserable indeed, the four of them trooped out into the corridor and walked slowly towards Elrond’s office.

 

 

                                 *                  *                    *

 

Éowyn, Tauriel and Eydís met Aendulas in the corridor where the dorms were, and she was looking quite composed, not at all distressed. But she did mutter under her breath when they asked her how she was.

“Maybe you should not have gone that far…” Éowyn sighed. “You did say pretty hurtful things about Rohan, you know…”

“I merely pointed out the difference.” Aendulas checked her fingernails.

The other maidens remained silent and Tauriel proceeded to unlock the door of their room. But something seemed off.

“Don’t you smell…?” She turned around and sniffed the air. “Ew. It’s really disgusting…”

“Indeed…” Éowyn frowned. “Did they suddenly decide to move the latrines to this floor?”

“It’s not even that.” Eydís pushed their dorm-door open. “Oh my…”

The smell now came towards them, extremely powerful. Tauriel gagged and Éowyn jumped back a yard.

“WHAT IS THAT.” She cried, choking herself in her sleeve.

Aendulas, once more, was the only one in the group to remain calm.

“Orc waste.” She said, quietly. “I think Arwen and Saeltheria just pranked you back…”

Tauriel was still gagging in her sleeves, but Éowyn stood up straight and ran away, heading towards the dining hall, were students were already trooping in to. She barged in wildly and ran up to the elves’ table, banging it hard with her fist when she arrived. Figwit jumped and spilled his greens all over him.

“ARWEN.” Éowyn picked up a boiled cabbage that was laying on a tray, preparing herself to chuck it at her. “YOU ARE GOING TO PAY.”

Arwen looked up, half surprised.

“Hm?”

That sent the young Rohirric maiden into a bigger fury and she threw the cabbage right at Arwen’s face, who gasped and spluttered, standing up. Suddenly, the whole dining hall had gone silent and a curious group formed itself around the table.

“YOU… YOU THWAT!” Arwen gazed at the table, searching for an object to throw back and decided to chuck her water at Éowyn, who dodged it, making the cold plunge land on Figwit, who cringed and yelped.

“What is going on?” Suddenly everyone went quiet and scrambled back to their seats as Elrond came walking in, staring at the scene with a heavy frown.

“Ada!” Arwen ran towards him, feigning helplessness. “That crazy maiden started casting food at me…”

“That’s true.” Saeltheria said, calmly standing up. “She came out of nowhere…”

At that moment, Tauriel came in, followed closely by Eydís and Aendulas.

“Arwen!” She exclaimed. “How could you?” She turned to Elrond. “My lord… they started it… Arwen and Saeltheria… Do not just punish Éowyn, for she was only getting back at them for filling our room with…”

Elrond banged the table with the palm of his hand, making everyone jump.

“Stop this now!” He exclaimed. “I took over this school to set an example in tolerance between races and now you are even fighting among your own people…”

“Technically, she is not  _our people_ …” Arwen muttered, but a large frown from her father made her go quiet.

“High School Rivendell is supposed to be a place where we can all get along… where borders and races do not matter… where we are free to like each other no matter what our forefathers said…” Elrond sighed. “I do not think you have understood that. Éowyn, Tauriel… you are going to Saturday detention and…” He looked at his daughter, who had muffled a giggle. “… you too, Arwen and Saeltheria. May you learn to get along and stop fighting. I will expect you in the classroom early in the morning.” He turned towards Aendulas. “You too.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving a disgruntled Lindir in charge.

“You maidens, you have caused this…” He said. “Please clean this mess up.”

Éowyn and Tauriel grudgingly obeyed and started picking up pieces of cabbage from the floor. Aendulas went down to the janitor’s quarters to inform him about the filthy room.

“It is so unfair.” Tauriel said later, perched upon the windowsill in the common room. Éowyn sat next to her, struggling with her Sindarin homework. “I mean… why me? Why does she hate me so much? I may be just a Silvan, but surely she cannot hate me for that… she spends so much time with the lads… they are less elf than I am…” She sighed deeply. “I should have never come here. I should have gone to a public school in Mirkwood…”

Éowyn looked up and left her homework next to her.

“There will always be Arwens, Tauriel.” She said, solemnly. “You cannot escape trouble or rivalry in this world. Even the kindest people suffer and there’s no way to avoid certain discomfort. But there’s no bad without good in this world. You may have an enemy, but you will always have more friends, because you are Tauriel, the kind and funny elf from Mirkwood… and your friends like you just the way you are.”

Tauriel felt a choking sensation in her throat and smiled.

“Sorry for whining.” She managed to stutter. “Thank you.”

Éowyn laughed.

“Do not thank me, I just said it how it is. Also, we will find a way to make Arwen and Saeltheria shut up, we have three more years to do so.”

At that moment, the lads burst into the common room, arguing loudly. They still wore their rugby robes and their hair was wet and sweaty.

“You did not score… that was not a touchdown…” Éomer was saying, furiously to Aragorn.

“Éomer, please.” Aragorn turned towards him. “Everyone knows it was. Your team lost. Deal with it.”

“We did not lose!” Háma exclaimed, angrily. “You lost! You cheated. Rohan does not lose.”

“Oh, so now it’s  _Rohan_?” Borlas stepped forward. “Come on! I thought you said we were a team!”

“You were doing fine until Durnhelm left…” Boromir mumbled. “And then we crushed you.”

“You did not crush us!” Éomer exclaimed. “That is  _unsoð_!!!”

From the windowsill, Tauriel looked at Éowyn.

“What is that all about?” She whispered.

“After training, today, we decided to do a game and we split up in teams…” Éowyn whispered back. “Boromir, Aragorn and Borlas were on one team and Éomer, Háma and me on the other. I left early because I had to finish my Sindarin homework.”

“I still cannot believe that you are Durnhelm and that only I know.” Tauriel giggled under her breath. “But why are they arguing?”

“I do not know… I suppose they do not agree on the outcome.” Éowyn threw her hair back, Aendulas-style. “They need me.”

Tauriel giggled again.

“Well, that settles it!” Háma said, loudly. “Midnight, down at the fields! Rohan against Gondor!”

“This is on!” Borlas exclaimed. “But who will be your third player? I doubt Durnhelm will come running… he goes to another school…”

Háma tuned towards Éowyn.

“She can play.” He said.

“No!” Éomer and Boromir exclaimed at the same time.

“Why not? Let them play to their doom…” Borlas sneered.

“Éowyn is not going anywhere!” Éomer exclaimed. “We can take you on alone!”

The young Rohirric maiden stood up, angrily.

“Do not tell me what to do!” She said.

“Éowyn… we already have detention…” Tauriel held her arm. “Elrond might expel you…”

“I know.” Éowyn answered. “I did not want to play anyway… I just do not want my brother to tell me what to do.” She walked away. “I am going to the library to finish my homework.” And with that, she left.

Could she really handle it? Éowyn wondered as she walked through the dark corridors towards the library, the only source of light. It was hard to cope with the remarks of her teammates, who did not even know they were her teammates. It was hard to hear them praise Durnhelm knowing they never would if they found out she was a maiden. Éowyn sighed, and pushed open the door, wondering who would be in the library.

Lindir, of course, and a few other elves. Pearl Took smiled vaguely from the other end. Faramir sat alone in a corner, reading one of the five volumes he had on the table. She moved towards him, unknowingly, and moved up a chair beside him.

“May I?” She asked, quietly.

He startled and then pushed his glasses nervously up his nose.

“Yes…” He mumbled, dropping his book and then picking it up again, not realizing it was upside-down. But Éowyn did not notice either.

They sat in quiet for a while, Faramir trying to concentrate on his reading and Éowyn struggling with her Sindarin. In the end, he gently pulled her paper away from her and read it quietly.

“Is it that bad?” Éowyn asked.

“Well…” Faramir mumbled. “A little… It seems you have not understood the exercise…”

Éowyn snorted and he smiled.

“I see…” She said. “I thought we had to put the verbs in the correct tense…”

“That’s only a small part of it.” Faramir chuckled. “We have to turn this direct text to an indirect style, so it makes no sense if you change the verbs to future… you just have to follow the changes that Celeborn gave us in class.”

“The only thing Celeborn gave me in class is sleep depravation.” Éowyn sighed. “I did not even know… changes?”

“Yes… let me explain.” Faramir pulled out his notes and patiently repeated that day’s lesson, even making new notes for her. Éowyn was surprised to find that she actually understood it in the end and that the exercise seemed almost easy afterwards.

“Amazing…” She mumbled, as she finished it. “I might have made a few mistakes but I actually understand it now.” She looked at Faramir. “I will sign a petition for you to become the next Sindarin teacher.”

“Oh no.” Faramir laughed. “Celeborn is a great teacher, really. He knows so much.”

“Well, you know how to transmit.” Éowyn mumbled, and then smiled. “I am really grateful, Faramir. I know you have better things to do.”

He smiled too.

“Not really.” He cleared his throat. “I was reading A Tale of Five Dragons.”

Éowyn chuckled.

“It sure is epic.”

“I know…” Faramir grinned broadly.

They sat quiet for a while and then Éowyn looked up.

“You are pleasant company, Faramir.” She stated. “I had never been so wrong about a person and I found out last Enderi. You do not make me mad or agitated, on the contrary: when the world crumbles around me, you bring me peace and comfort…” She looked up. “Sorry, I had a bad day.” And she stood up, ready to leave. “Please go on reading, I do not want to bother you further.” And with that, she left, leaving Faramir smiling and not being able to concentrate on his reading any longer.

That night, Éowyn and Tauriel slept in Eydís and Aendulas’ room, much to everyone’s discomfort. Éowyn and Aendulas were still cold to each other after what had happened in class and that made the other maidens really uncomfortable.

“Aendulas, you are sleeping with Éowyn.” Eydís had said. “You two work this out because we have enough Arwens and Saeltherias around.”

And so Éowyn and Aendulas had ended up sharing a bed, to their horror. The Gondorian maiden was not used to that lack of space at all.

“Will. You. Stop. Moving.” She muttered.

“Will you stop being a canker blossom.” Éowyn refused to look at her.

“What did you call me? How dare you!” Aendulas whispered loudly.

Éowyn turned to face her, their noses inches from each other.

“How dare you…” She muttered. “You get mad at Háma and the only thing you manage to do is insult our country and our people. He is supposed to be your friend. I am supposed to be your friend. He lashed out too, but all you said was really offensive.”

“I am going to sleep now.” Aendulas said, coldly, and turned to the other side. Éowyn turned around as well, but none of them slept.

Aendulas did feel bad, and was experiencing remorse on every way possible. The guilt was physically hurting her and she did not understand that feeling, for it was not one she had often. But she could not bring herself to apologize because her pride was heavily in the way.

Next morning, the breakfast table was a sullen place, for the maidens were not speaking and the lads had earned detention because they had been discovered last night. Háma and Borlas had been the only ones who had managed to escape because they had been heavily arguing behind the equipment shed when Lord Elrond had come by. They had tried to warn the others, but that had not been possible, and now Éomer, Boromir and Aragorn were to have Saturday detention as well. Háma felt lucky… he already had detention and if Elrond would have caught him, surely something bad would have happened.

“What a merry crowd.” Faramir muttered at the breakfast table.

“I know…” Éowyn muttered back. “It seems you are the only one who does not have detention… a part from Eydís.”

“Oh, I have detention as well.” Faramir mumbled through gritted teeth.

“How so?” Éowyn looked surprised.

“I got caught in the library after hours… I merely lost track of the time, but Lord Elrond found me there and he must have been wound up about the others… Anyway… Detention.” Faramir sighed. “I do not deserve this.”

“Your crime was atrocious.” Éowyn said, solemnly. “My, you could have extenuated the books…”

Faramir snorted.

“They were writhing in pain…”

They both laughed, making everyone stare.

“You two sure seem happy.” Háma growled at them.

“Of course we are happy… at least our detentions made sense. Faramir read all night and I got to start a food fight.” Éowyn smiled. “It was totally worth it.”

Her comment actually did brighten the mood a little and the others laughed. But the true conflicts between them had not yet been resolved and that would take some extra work from most of them.

 

                      *                     *                       *

 

Saturday dawned cold and windy, making it even harder for the group to get out of bed that morning. Dorm by dorm, they trooped out in their normal robes, cloaks wrapped tightly around them, and headed towards the dining hall, where they sat down at their usual table. Not a single student was seen, as quite a few had travelled home for the weekend and Radagast had taken the rest for a two-day nature trip. They were completely alone except for the kitchen staff and the janitor.

“Who will be watching us?” Háma asked, chewing on his porridge. The first years shrugged, but Éomer sighed deeply.

“Usually Lord Elrond oversees detention but he has left for the weekend as well…”

“Daddy has business in Lothlorien.” Arwen checked her fingernails. “Not that I care… It will be better without him, he can be very strict.”

“True…” Éomer turned a little red and then looked back at the others.

“So what should we do today?” Éowyn stretched like a cat. “I mean… what do people do in detention?”

“That you shall find out really soon.” Came a serious voice from the other side of the hall. Everyone turned around and saw Celeborn walking toward them, his grey cloak swishing behind him. The dark light coming through the windows seemed to enhance his elven features and he looked less dull and more terrifying than usual. He came to a halt in front of their table and looked at them, one by one.

“So, you are this week’s detentionaires… What a merry bunch.” He muttered, sounding as ironic as Haldir. “Now, have you finished your breakfast? Good. You shall follow me to the library, where you shall remain throughout today.”

Groaning a little, the group brought their trays to the kitchen carts and then followed Celeborn upstairs, to the library. He made them walk past all the rows of books until they reached a small atrium at the end. Students hardly ever ventured there, for it was used only by teachers and occasionally, the student council. Just like in the classes, there were two rows of desks and benches, each on a higher step than the one in front. There was a small staircase leading to the upper part of the library, a place where students were not allowed to go either.

“I want you to sit. You are not to move until the day is over. While you wait, you are to write a composition about tolerance. Special orders from Elrond.” Celeborn looked at them. “I shall be right here, across the hallway. Do not make me come in.”

And with that, he walked out of the atrium, across the library, back into the hallway. Everyone stared after him and then moves slowly towards the benches. Aendulas sat down in the middle, beside Tauriel, who shifted uncomfortably. Háma sat down with Éomer on the other side, as far away from Aendulas as possible. Aragorn and Boromir took a seat in front of them and Arwen and Saeltheria moved in front of them as well. Legolas and Gimli were about to chose seats far away from each other, but Éowyn and Faramir were quicker, occupying the seats in front of Aendulas and Tauriel. Reluctantly, they sat down behind the other two.

“Well, we are settled.” Aragorn said, and then he buried his head in his arms. “Wake me up at the end of the day.”

They laughed a little.

“We should write the composition.” Tauriel mumbled, but everyone except Éowyn and Faramir glared at her.

“Maybe you should write it for all of us.” Saeltheria said. “I mean… you and Éowhinny over there started all this…”

“Excuse me?” Éowyn stood up, as everyone chanted a loud ‘ooooh’. “You are delirious, do you not recall playing around with orc-dung?” She paused, searching for a nickname. “Slutheria…”

This time the ‘ooooh’ was louder and even Arwen’s mouth twitched into a smile.

Saeltheria stood up as well, walking towards Éowyn.

“Say that to my face!”

“I did.”

“Alright, alright.” Boromir came forwards and pushed everyone back to their seats. “We are all here for a reason, let us just leave it at that. We cannot escape detention today, therefore I suggest we keep calm and just deal with it. Bickering is not going to make time go any quicker.”

“Do you know what would make time go quicker?” Gimli mumbled, from the back.

“Enlighten us, master dwarf.” Aragorn smiled.

“Ale.”

Everyone laughed except Faramir, who heaved a huge sigh.

“Why do you like drinking so much?” He asked. “It just slows down your brain…”

“That’s because you have one, laddie!” Gimli grinned and they all laughed again.

“No, but seriously…” Faramir turned towards him. “Tell me what the thrill is. I have seen you lads (and maidens) get drunk on several occasions this Enderi, and I thought you all looked foolish and vulnerable. Why would you enter that state willingly?”

Everyone was quiet.

“Well, he does have a point.” Gimli broke the silence.

“Actually…” Háma jumped up and sat on top of the table. “If you would also drink, you would understand. Ale makes you think you can do anything…”

“Wine makes your head swim and then you want to dance all night.” Legolas smiled.

“Aye, that’s what it does.” Gimli gave him a push. “Stop making alcoholic beverages sound beautiful.”

“Oh, I am sorry… Would you prefer me to describe it as passing out in pools of your own wretch?” Legolas folded his arms and looked away, annoyed at the dwarf.

“Ale makes you braver.” Éowyn explained, looking at Faramir. “It makes you do certain things you would not have the courage for otherwise.”

“We are  _not brave_  for a reason.” Faramir said. “It seems foolish to evoke bravery and do things you would not normally do.”

“I am not talking about slaying a dragon.” Éowyn said. “Although I probably would. I meant confessing love and things like that.”

“Oh, love gets confessed alright.” Boromir mumbled from the other end of the room. “Every single time.” His eyes caught Aendulas’ and she turned away, quickly.

“But still…” Faramir sat down. “It is foolish. If I were to confess, I would not do it drunk.”

“Just like your brother.” Aendulas muttered ironically, making Boromir go red.

“Well, at least I do on some way!” He retorted.

“Woa! Woa!” Éomer turned around. “What is going on? Boromir, did you confess to Aendulas?”

“No.” They both answered at the same time.

At that moment the door opened and Celeborn came storming in.

“I can hear you from across three bolted doors!” He exclaimed. “I am trying to correct exams, so be quiet and write your composition.” And with that he left again.

Háma sighed.

“You lads… I do not think I can sit here the whole day. Tell me that at least an hour went by…”

“Not yet a quarter.” Faramir pointed at the sun clock on the wall. “We had better write that composition and behave. Maybe they will let us out early.”

“Yes, maybe we will get to see the sun today…” Legolas stared melancholically out of the window.

“Why don’t we let the elf write it? He breathes poetry.” Gimli proposed.

“Stop calling me  _the elf_  as if I were the only elf in this school.” Legolas snapped at him. “And I am not writing a composition for all of you.”

“Look.” Éowyn stood up. “We cannot just write something. We have to make Elrond believe we have learned something. Now, I am not prepared to be tolerant with Arwen and Saeltheria, but we could all say a sentence about how important it is to live well among races and sign it together. I suggest we do that.”

Everyone sighed.

“She is right.” Háma said. “I would see Gondor burn to the ground but if I write that, I will never get out of detention. Let us write one paragraph each of how much we love each other and be done with it.”

Everyone took out a piece of paper and started scribbling. Faramir went around the room and picked them up afterwards, making everyone laugh. He certainly looked like a teacher.

“Please say: well done, cutlets.” Háma begged.

“No.” Faramir was reading through the compositions. “By Valar, Éomer, did you not check your spelling?”

“What does that even matter? This is no exam…”

“Faramir is like Celeborn.” Háma stood up and ran towards the desk facing the class. “You shall not speak. You shall not move. You shall not breathe…” Everyone started laughing but Faramir interrupted the merriness.

“Everyone…” He said. “You did not take this seriously… We cannot show sentences like: even though we are a superior race…” He looked sternly at Saeltheria. “or: I guess we shall have to conform under the imperialistic iron fist that is Gondor…” He frowned at Háma. “Did you not understand anything?”

“We did, but it’s so hard to write nice things about bastards.” Háma wailed.

“You seem to forget I am also Gondorian.” Faramir scowled at him. “I do not understand why you are so radical… just like Aendulas.”

“Ever you wish to mingle with those who come from afar.” Aendulas sneered, her accent coming out more than usual. “You never took pride in our city or our culture.”

“What is wrong with you! Don’t you know who you sound like?” Faramir exclaimed. “You are not like my father, Aendulas, you were born tolerant! And just a few years ago, you still played with us when we crossed Ithilien on horseback hunting dragons and pretending to be wood elves!” He paused. “And then you and my brother joined the White Tree Cult and suddenly everything was about Gondor… and nothing else mattered anymore!”

Everyone had gone silent. They were all staring motionless at Faramir’s outburst.

“Little brother…” Boromir came forward, breaking the silence, and walked over towards Faramir. “From all the things in our fair city, you know you are the most important to me… do you not?”

Faramir nodded.

“You are kind and tolerant… I think High School Rivendell helped you be like that… I thought it had done so with Háma and Aendulas as well… But I was wrong.”

They were interrupted by a loud sound. They all turned towards Tauriel, who was blowing her nose.

“Excuse me.” She mumbled. “This made me cry.”

Suddenly Éowyn came forward.

“I do not think Háma and Aendulas are intolerant… they’re just proud. But I am sure they regret what happened.” She said.

Éomer broke through.

“I am bored and hungry… What time is it?”

“Not yet noon.” Faramir muttered. “But we all have lunch bundles, you could eat yours.”

“I cannot.” Éomer said. “If I eat mine now, I will not be able to live with myself when everyone eats theirs later…”  
Faramir raised an eyebrow and Éowyn muttered, ironically:

“The struggle is real.”

Aendulas stood up and walked solemnly towards the door, never looking back.

“Where are you going? We are not to leave…” Tauriel exclaimed.

“Bathroom.” Aendulas muttered. “I do believe Celeborn will allow me to do that.”

She walked out of the library and looked into the hall were Celeborn was quietly correcting exams. He seemed very concentrated. She gently rapped on the door with her knuckles and he looked up.

“May I go to the bathroom?”

He seemed to need some time to think about it, but then he came to reason and nodded.

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

Aendulas hurried along the corridor towards the bathrooms on that floor and entered, walking towards the wash basins. She stared at her pale reflection in the mirror and did not like what she was seeing. But for once, it wasn’t her physical appearance that bothered her but the dark expression on her face. She could not recognize herself. As she came closer to the mirror, she realized she despised that maiden staring back at her. Aendulas quickly left the bathroom and returned to the classroom, trying to hide her distraughtness.

Noon came and went, allowing the students to tuck into their lunch bundles. Most of them chewed quite happily for eating was a grateful distraction in such a dull day.

“I cannot believe it has only been four hours…” Saeltheria wailed. “It seems like forever.”  
“This was your fault…” Éowyn grumbled.

“Yes, why the orc-waste? I told you to use normal waste…” Arwen said, pointedly. “I mean, come on…”

“We would have been punished anyway.” Saeltheria said. “It’s all their fault… they started with the frogs…”  
“Only because you smeared porridge on our seats in the Dining Hall…” Éowyn mumbled. “You call yourself an elf…”  
“That was because you pushed one of the Leading Maidens during a performance, making all of us fall.” Arwen said, angrily.

“Well, you deserved it! You treated Tauriel as if she were dirt, embarrassing her in front of everyone… and she is such a good dancer! You would be proud to have her on your team.” Éowyn turned away from them. “We may be cheeky and childish, but you are mean and ill-natured.”

Suddenly Aragorn walked towards them, making Éowyn’s knees shake.

“What is this?” He asked, in his melodic tone. “What did you do to Tauriel?”

Arwen went pale and looked away, not daring to meet his eyes.

“She… embarrassed her at the try-outs for the Leading Maidens…” Éowyn said, in a shaky voice, fighting hard to maintain eye-contact with the handsome lad. “She set her up to act in ridicule.”

Aragorn half smiled at her and then turned back to Arwen.

“Is that so?”

Arwen nodded, looking at the ground. Saeltheria sighed hopelessly behind her.

“Do you even know what lying means?” She muttered.

“Some people do.” Aragorn frowned at the fair-haired elf. “But not Arwen, she will remain honest in front of me.” He turned back to Elrond’s daughter. “Do not get carried away by Saeltheria’s spite. I know you better than that.”

Arwen dared to meet his eyes this time and Éowyn was surprised to see them moist. But she tilted her chin in the air and spoke up, her voice quite steady. She was like Aendulas in that way.

“Tauriel.” She said. “You may join the Leading Maidens if you wish. You dance well.”

Tauriel looked up, utterly surprised and then nodded, a small smile on her face. Éowyn sighed and muttered at Faramir:

“I would chuck my boot at her.”

“That’s the closest she will come to an apology.” Faramir smiled. “Just like our Aendulas.”

Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Should we play a game?” Boromir asked suddenly. He disliked silences more than anyone. “We can crumble up a piece of parchment and have a game of rugby… Or there are many books to use for that as well…”

“Boromir!” Faramir exclaimed, appalled.

“Alright, no books.” His brother smiled. “Any ideas, my cutlets?”

“I say we explore the school, now that no one is here…” Éowyn smiled maliciously.

“And how do you suppose we do that?” Háma exclaimed. “Our darling Sindarin teacher is right outside the door.”

“We could climb to the upper level of the library and see if there are any air ventilation tunnels we could crawl through.” Éowyn stood up, excited. “We could…”  
“Hold your horses.” Éomer stood up as well. “Crawling through tunnels? Éowyn, no…”

“I think it’s a great idea.” Háma grinned broadly. “I am going to check!” And he climbed up the small wooden ladder into the forbidden section of the library. The others listened eagerly as he described it: “It’s really small here, but there are a lot of old books, way older than the ones below. Also, I can find no air tunnels, but there’s a small dusty window.” Suddenly he let out a cry of amazement. “Everyone, come here and join me! I have found something incredible!”

The students climbed up the ladder one by one, even Faramir, who was a little skeptical of heights. They turned to see what Háma had in his hands: it was a big dark volume, written in Sindarin, with old pictures between the pages. It smelled of musk.

“This is… an old yearbook… showing the older generations at High School Rivendell.” He said. “And look who I found on page one: President of the Student Council, Head Guider, Class President, Head Writer of the school paper and Captain of the Lacrosse team: Celeborn.”

Everyone crowded around Háma to look at the old picture. It showed a younger Celeborn, with beautiful features and hair that looked much more golden, even if the picture was in black and white. He had the same serious look on his face, but his eyes seemed gentler.

“This was before he saw things in life.” Boromir chuckled.

“Look…” Háma pointed at the signature under the page. “Why does that say  _Teleporno_?”

Faramir immediately pulled out his smartír and sought it up.

“You are never going to believe it.” He laughed. “But  _Teleporno_  means almost the exact same thing in Telerin as  _Celeborn_  does in Sindarin. This is his original name.”

“What? Our Sindarin teacher’s real name is  _Teleporno_?” Éowyn burst out laughing. “No way.”

“Yes way.” Faramir showed her the page he had found on his smartír.

Everyone went into fits of laughter, but Háma hushed them.

“We do not want Teleporno to catch us.”

But that only made things worse. Gimli threw himself down on the floor, guffawing and they quickly turned the page in the book, hoping to calm him down.

The next elves featured in the book were unknown to them, until they reached Elrond. It showed a picture of him throwing his arm around another lad, who looked a lot like him. Elrond seemed much younger and was wearing a leather cloak with iron fastings. Arwen snorted.

“I did not know Ada went through a Dwarven Rock stage…”

“Who is the other lad?” Aragorn asked.

“I do not know… the signature is unreadable as well…” Arwen mumbled.

Háma skipped a few pages, seeking something and then cried out:

“Yes! Théoden!”

Éowyn and Éomer came closer and then laughed, for their uncle was shown in his teenage years, wearing riding clothes and a big grin.

“He was captain of the riding team…” Éomer smiled. “Of course.” He saddened up a little. “He looks so much like Théodred here…”

Háma laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I think he looks like you.”

That generation in the yearbook proved to be very interesting indeed: not only did it contain Théoden, but most of their elders.

“Oh my… is that Thorin?” Gimli exclaimed. “He looks like Kíli here… I wish I could show Eydís…”

“And look! Professor Baggins and his cousin!” Tauriel exclaimed. “So young…”

“And is this…” Legolas laughed. “Ada!”

A very young Thranduil stared seductively from the photograph, a glass of wine in his hands. Everyone giggled.

“He was President of the Student Council as well…” Legolas laughed, turning the page. “Well that…” Suddenly he went quiet, for the next page featured a beautiful young elf maiden, a rose in her hair and a lacrosse stick in her hand.

“Oh my…” Tauriel looked at her friend. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright. I’m alright.” Legolas said. “Just turn the page already.”

Háma obeyed, while everyone dwelled on who the young elf was.

“In case you were wondering, she was my mother. Now, no further questions until we graduate.” Legolas heaved a sigh and stared at the next picture. “Is that Denethor?”

Still moved by the scene, everyone reacted slowly to Denethor’s picture, but soon enough Faramir muttered:

“It’s like looking at you, Boromir.”

“It sure is.” Aendulas nodded. “I wonder if…” She turned the next page and the brothers gasped. “Finduilas of Dôl Amrôth…”

“Alright, no need to show everyone’s dead mothers!” Boromir tried to turn the page.

“No.” Aendulas said. “Wait.” She looked around. “Boromir may look like his father, but does Faramir not look like his mother?”

Éowyn leaned forward. Finduilas was a very beautiful young girl in the picture, fair skinned and dark haired like Aendulas herself. But her eyes showed the same kindness as Faramir’s did.

“Yes, he sure does.” She said.

“Both Legolas’ mother and Finduilas were great students and great women.” Aendulas said. “We should honour that and not forget them, for they are important. You owe it to them to remember.” She turned the page. “I just thought you should know that.”

Boromir and Faramir nodded quietly, and so did Legolas.

“It seems really interesting… Our parents and all…” Gimli muttered. “I wonder what kind of mischief they came up with.”

“My kingdom for a diary.” Legolas chuckled, and for once, the elf and the dwarf agreed.

For a moment, they stood in silence, leafing through the book and smiling at the pictures of former students. But then Saeltheria, who had been standing a little further away, called them over.

“Hey, you lot… Is this not the air tunnel you were looking for?” She pushed aside a chair, sending dozens of parchment rolls crashing on the floor, revealing a cloud of dusk.

“Ugh.” Faramir coughed, batting his arms to get the dust away. “Is this even Rivendell? Why this looks like the old library in Minas Tirith… The one where Mithrandir likes to light his pipe weed…”

“Move aside, little brother.” Boromir looked excited. “It surely looks like an air ventilation tunnel… But it seems quite small.”

“Your broad shoulders will not fit.” Éowyn laughed, pulling him back. “I am going through.”

And before anyone could stop her, the Rohirric maiden had pushed herself through the opening behind the chair and was creeping towards a fork in the tunnel.

“The space seems wider here!” She exclaimed. “Do come!”

Háma, Tauriel, Legolas, Éomer and Aragorn did not waste any time and followed her. Arwen seemed to hesitate and then also went in. Gimli and Boromir tried but their shoulders would not fit. Reluctantly, they stayed behind with Faramir, Aendulas and Saeltheria.

“What if Teleporno comes in?” The dwarf asked.

Boromir shrugged.

“We will say they went to the bathroom.”

Meanwhile, Éowyn was leading the group through the dark tunnel. The path was only visible thanks to the small streaks of light that entered from the vents. They could look into many classrooms and definitely saw Celeborn correcting exams in the hall next to the library.

“Where should we go?” Éowyn whispered.

“The kitchen.” Éomer and Háma said at once and everyone laughed. They crawled steadily on until they reached a vertical tunnel leading downwards. Into the sides were carved some steps.

“I guess people do come in here after all.” Arwen muttered.

“Of course…” Aragorn said. “They need to clean the place and lay traps for the rats.”

“Rats?”

Suddenly everyone started crawling faster and they reached the kitchen in no time. A pale light shone through the iron vent and they could see a few elves cleaning the stone counters. Soon enough, they moved away and the coast was clear.

“We should not all go down.” Éowyn said. “One of us should get some food and pass it to the others.”

“I will do it.” Legolas sprung down out of the vent onto the counter and then went straight to the pantry. He quickly wrapped a few things in his empty lunch bundle and then called over to the others:

“Everyone, give me your bundles!”

One by one, the elf filled them with the goods that were stored in the pantry. Most of them were small cakes, the kind they served at tea time in meager rations, so they were in for a surprise.

Legolas swung the bundles up through the vent and then hopped up on a very agile way. They quickly moved back through the vent and soon enough, they were back at the library, covered in dust.

“Ew.” Saeltheria muttered.

Gimli expressed his joy when he gazed upon the cakes and soon they were all feasting on them. After that, detention did not seem so boring anymore.

“We should do this more often.” Éowyn grinned.

“No, you should not.” Faramir mumbled through gritted teeth. “I don’t know why everyone is acting so merrily, we still have three hours of detention and nobody has written anything yet…”

It dawned on them then that they had to finish the composition and everyone groaned.

“What are we supposed to write?” Háma exclaimed. “I am still mad on Aendulas! And Borlas… And everyone Gondorian.”

“I still hate everybody.” Saeltheria added. “It seems we just don’t agree with Elrond…”

Suddenly Aendulas looked up.

“I do not want to be like Saeltheria.” She said. She cleared her throat and dropped her Gondorian accent all of the sudden. “I’m so sorry, Háma. I never meant to insult Rohan, or you. I was… really angry the other day for reasons that do not involve you… or anyone… It made me hate the world and lash out at my friends.” She turned around to face Éowyn. “I’m sorry.”

But Éowyn barely let her finish and crushed her in a full embrace, which did not last long as it was unusual behaviour for both.

“Well…” Háma muttered. “I am also sorry… for, you know, things…”

Aendulas smiled a little.

“Well, that is settled.” Boromir grinned. “Now, master Dwarf… is there anything you would like to say to Legolas over here?”

Gimli looked up.

“What, me? No.”

Boromir sighed.

“In the end Aendulas will have to write the paper… she was the first to show she had learned something…”

Suddenly, Celeborn barged in and everyone sat down at once. He frowned at them and they had a hard time containing their laughter remembering his name in Quenya.

“I have to go down to the cellar for more ink.” He said. “I want no one to venture out while I’m gone. Is that clear?”

“Yes, professor.” Everyone chanted, and Celeborn walked away.

Saeltheria looked around.

“Well, I am going to my dorm to get my personal palantír.” She said. “I will surely be back before he is.”

“Don’t be daft, Saeltheria…” Arwen started, but the elf was already gone. The rest sighed.

“If only Saeltheria were the generous type… We could watch a play on her palantír…” Boromir mumbled.

They sat nervously waiting for either of them to return. Arwen wrote a message on her smartír.

“She says she’s walking up the stairs now.” The elf told the class.

But at that moment Celeborn came barging in.

“I’m back…” He said. Then, he frowned once more. “Where is Saeltheria?”

A mortified Saeltheria appeared at the door and when she saw Celeborn standing there, she hid behind a bookcase.

“Bathroom!” Éowyn exclaimed quickly. “She is in the bathroom.”

“Well, I am going to the bathroom right now and if she is not there, that young elven maiden will be in a lot of trouble.” Celeborn muttered, and sped off. But Tauriel jumped out of her seat.

“OW!” She exclaimed, making Celeborn stop in his tracks. “My… my stomach! It hurts!” She threw herself down on the floor, writhing in pain. Háma, who knew what she was up to, cast himself down next to her.

“Oh no!” He exclaimed, squeezing out a small tear. “We both ate the same thing for lunch! I do believe that cabbage was rotten…”

Celeborn moved towards them with a sigh and at that moment Éowyn and Arwen signaled Saeltheria to go to the bathroom. She quickly left her personal palantír on a shelf and hurried off.

“Look, you are going to be fine.” Celeborn was muttering at the writhing students on the floor.

“Oh my, you are right… I’m feeling better already…” Háma sat up. “I will quietly walk to my seat now.”

“Yes. Me too.” Tauriel stood up as well. Celeborn looked at them angrily.

“Do not try and delay the inevitable.” He said. “If I do not find Saeltheria in the bathroom, it shall be Saturday Detention next week as well.”

But when he was walking through the corridor towards the bathroom, none other than Saeltheria came out, with a smile.

“Phew, that lunch was terrible today.” She said. “Probably a rotten cabbage or something.” And she moved along before Celeborn even could realize that anything was off.

Back in the classroom, everyone was laughing and Háma thumped Tauriel on the back.

“Good show.”

Saeltheria looked at them.

“Thanks for not telling on me or whatever.” She sat down. “Does anyone want to watch a play on my personal palantír? I have the complete first season of Godsibb Maiden…”

Everyone seemed enthusiastic about that after the long dull hours, so they all sat around Saeltheria and watched the show, at a very quiet volume, so that Celeborn would not hear. The last hours in Detention proved to be much better than promised.

 

                            *                  *                   *

 

Lord Elrond came in the library a few hours after the students had left. It was already late in the evening and the whole school had returned from their nature trip. Elrond looked around and then found a single piece of paper on the teachers’ desk. He picked it up. It was written in a long slithering handwriting, very elegant.

 

_You told us to write a composition about tolerance, a matter on which we cannot all agree. True, it is now the main reason High School Rivendell can exist, but every student is an individual and we cannot all be poured into the same barrel. You may think that you can lock up an elf, a dwarf and someone of the race of men and magically make them become friends, but that is impossible. Only those who choose to become friends will do that, because all of us are free. What we have learned from our parents is not likely to leave our heads soon, but we can promise you this: We can start a change. Maybe help each other occasionally, maybe laugh together… Will all of us be friends at some point? I think not. Not everyone. But that’s a choice we shall all have to make eventually, on our own._

_Today we have learned that we can lean on each other occasionally. I truly believe that it might be the first step towards tolerance that you seek…_

 

Under the text, were everyone’s signatures, but Elrond knew exactly who had written it.

“Oh Saeltheria…” He muttered. “Maybe High School Rivendell will yet be the making of you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Rides and Ties
> 
> Théoden takes the class out for a ride but not everyone can handle their horses as the lads from Rohan. Also, Haldir grinds them for the winter school play.
> 
> Stay tuned!


End file.
